Seven years ago today, it happened.  The terrorist attacks upon our (once) great nation.

As a result of hate from the other side of the world, twin towers no longer grace the NYC skyline, nearly three thousand lives no longer exist, and the Pentagon stands vulnerable, as does all of America.

For it can happen again if we don't take steps to protect ourselves, our properties, our borders--and the next time, it could be worse.  Very much so.

I was only a little lad of eight years old when the attacks happened; the first thing I thought of was my brother, Erick, who lived in NYC at the time.  I was afraid he'd been killed in the attacks; his class had taken a field trip to the towers that day. 

You can't imagine the terror I felt, terror that mounted with each ticking beat of the clock, each hour that passed.  When the buildings fell upon themselves in a huge cloud of smoke, the helplessness only intensified; I was sure my brotehr was a goner.

For several days, I didn't hear a word.  I had no idea of whether Erick had survived or not. 

Besides worrying about my brother, Erick, I also was worried about further attacks.  When I'd heard the Pentagon had been hit and then that plane burying itself in that field in Pennslvania, I didn't know what to think except where would the terrorists strike next, and how.  It was a scary time for everyone, especially me.

I thought of those brave rescue people who raced to the scene, wondering if they would find anyone alive.  If they did it would be a miracle.  I thought of their putting their own lives on the line to help those most in need.

I thought of the workers or visitors who were at the towers that day, wondering what went through their minds as first one plane, then the other, hit, and wondering if any of them got out in time.  I thought of their families, started praying for them.

I started thinking about the people still in the towers, feeling, sensing their feelings of helplessness and dread, prior to the collapse.

I thought about the people outside who witnessed the attacks, sensing the fear, shock, horror, confusion that must have registered on their faces as they saw firsthand what happened, then wondered what they were thinking as they raced towards safety.

I wondered about our President who was out of town that day, tried to imagine what he must have ben thinking when people first informed him of the attacks.  I saw and heard his speech later that evening after we got from church, remembered the steely-eyed resolve as he vowed to get those who were responsible (by then, it was clearly announced that it had been the work of foreign terrorists).

I wondered if we were going to be at war, and if it would happen here.

As all these jumbled up thoughts ricocheted through my brain that day, I felt more confused, frightened, uneasy.  I didn't know what to think except what happened changed our world as we once knew it, and we would be forever affected as a direct result of it.

Because of the attacks, we were sent early (I was at school when the attacks happened); we immediately went home, where we stayed, close to our loved ones, and began to pray for our nation.  I didn't see the news reports; maman and daddy wouldn't let us.  They said what they saw was too disturbing. 

My heart felt like it dropped to my toes.  I was most concerned for Erick; I was also concerned for the safety of our country, and the lack of airplane noise in the sky.  No planes were flying; all flights had been grounded until further notice; the quiet was most unsettling.

The only sounds I did hear was the sound of cars, trucks, on the road, or an occasional military jet flying to only God knows where, as well as the beating of my own heart, as I waited, wondered what was going to happen next.

That night, we went as a family to church, where we all prayed, cried, tried to support each other.  I was an emotional wreck; I cried for my brother, I cried for New York, Pennsylvania, Washington DC, I cried for the victims, I cried for our president, and I cried for the families affected by this terrible disaster.

I felt somewhat comforted after church, but nothing like when I finally heard from Erick several days later.  I was so relieved I fainted.  It was a huge answer to prayer; the heavy weight I'd been carrying on my skinny shoulders for the past few days suddenly lifted, and all I could do after being revived from my spell was cry helplessly, mostly from relief, but also from shock and incredible sadness.

Now it is another year, and once again, we observe, pause, reflect, remember.  We have to remember; not to do so is only going to be our downfall.  To forget would only be disasterous.  This is why we must think about that day, think of those people who were affected, and pray for them as they try to cope with lingering memories, and for all of us to get through this terrible anniversary. 

God bless America again!  May we always be reminded why we are now at war, and why we now celebrate Patriot's Day!

NEVER forget!!

~Johnathon Irwin-Allen Denver-Sandusky. :( >tears!<