Remembrance Over 25 Years

On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I was a senior in high school sitting in my English Literature class. My friend Ashley came in to sit in front of me. She stated, “Two planes have hit the World Trade Center.” I responded, “Oh, that wasn’t planned.” I thought to myself, “Why would two small Cessna-like planes crash near the WTC?” We continued on with our class. I’m not sure anyone else knew yet, and I don’t remember all these years later how she knew already. Our English class period ended, and I walked down the stairs to proceed to the next hallway. After walking up the next set of stairs, I saw my history teacher (we’ll call him H). H was probably the largest person I knew, blessed with the wit, strength, height, and mass to keep in check any little shit high schoolers causing a ruckus. He was a gentle giant who rarely gave the “knock it off” look, but when he did, you knew he was serious. He was standing in the hallway. His eyes held back tears, his body language shouting…