Ronee' Reaux's school assignment.

Hard to believe it's been nearly seven years since that awful day.

I was just a little kid when the attacks happened.  Let's see, I was eight?  Yes.  Eight years old.  I was at school when Ms. Hemingway, my teacher, said that the World Trade Center buildings were on fire.

I'd been there.  I'd seen the Twin Towers with my own eyes.

It was like a punch to the gut.  All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room.  It was hard for me to breathe.  All I could think about was how it happened.  An accident?  An attack?  What??

We were dismissed at noon from school.  We went home, and Maman was crying, as was Daddy.  They wouldn't let us watch the news, said it was too disturbing.

I wanted to know.  Johnny's brother lives in New York City.  Was he affected?  Was he injured or worse?

The waiting, the wondering, the worrying was terrible.  Felt sick to my stomach.  By then, it was known it was a terrorist attack.  Not only in New York, but at the Pentagon, and an empty field in Pennsylvania.  (That plane was due to hit the White House, but the passengers on the highjacked aircraft fought back and drove the plane into the ground, killing all aboard.)

We went to church, so we could pray, try to make sense of what happened.  Many tears were shed (mostly by Johnny and me, I think).  I felt so helpless and out of control.  I can't begin to imagine what Johnny was thinking.

We came home and went to bed, but I don't think any of the family slept well that night.

The next morning, I saw the paper, the awful images, read the accounts of horror.  I was stunned.  Here?  In AMERICA?  Why?  Would there be more attacks?  Would we go to war?

So many unanswered questions in those early days.

A couple of days later, Johnny's brother called from NYC.  He was okay.  He saw the events unfold before his eyes; he had lost friends; but he was fine.

Thank God.

Johnny passed out with the news.  (If there's a good reason for passing out, I guess that's it.)  I cried with relief.

Seven years later, and all the emotions, the feelings I experienced that Tuesday come rushing back.  I don't think any of us will ever forget where they were, what they were doing when the news first broke.

Have things changed?  Yes.  We are at war, with an unseen enemy bent on our destruction.  Too many have died, but my feeling is this:  better over there than here, again.  Once was more than enough.

I still have nightmares.  I've watched the videos; the scenes are burned on my eyes, in my mind. 

I wish I could erase the memories.  I can't.  I can't!

Security at airports is a lot tighter now.  There is an uneasy feeling at the back of the mind at large gatherings of people.  Will something happen here?  Only prayer keeps me safe, sane.

I write as a way of coping, dealing with what happened.  Starting a journal has been a lifesaver, on more than one occasion.  I've also delved more into my music, singing, as a way to release tension. 

And church:  thank God for CCAOG!  Thank God for...God, I almost put.  Well, it's true !  Without HIM, I don't know where I'd be.

Those that lost loved ones still feel the pain.  Those that were injured relieve the horror on a daily basis.  Those that watched from afar feel like it happened to them.  I know I do, even though I wasn't there.  We WERE there, in a way.

God bless America, again!  Never forget!!

~Ronee' Le-Anne Reaux.