Dammit. I overslept again.
I headed toward the door of our dorm apartment when my roommate came rushing out of her room with a phone in her hand.
"Oh, my God!" She kept saying over and over again. "My mom called. A plane crashed into the Word Trade Center! There's no more building! It's gone!"
Whatever does she mean? No more World Trade Center? That's the tallest building in the world! She's always exaggerating. Silly girl.
I head to class. It's unusually sunny. The morning air is crisp. I even remember that birds were singing. Even as I rush to class, I remember that random detail. Everything seems peaceful. Like the most perfect morning.
I expect the class to be in full swing when I arrive. I hope to sneak into a chair in the back when the professor's back is turned.
As I walk in, the professor is sitting on the edge of her seat. Solemn. Everyone is quiet. The silence strikes me like running into a great wall.
The aid hands me a copy of a newswire report. I slowly sit down in my chair as the headline screams, "US Attacked, Hijacked jets destroy twin towers and hit Pentagon in day of terror."
I can't believe it. Even with a photo of dazed people covered in ash retreating from the World Trade Center site, I still can't believe it.
Some people in the classroom are in tears. Most are just like me, stunned.
The professor begins talking. We need to let out our feelings. Let's talk about it, she says. I don't hear much of what is said, until someone behind me says something about religion.
"It's things like this that makes me wonder why we even have religion," he says. "Religion has never done this world any good. It's started wars, murdered a lot of people, and this is just another example. When I think of Islam, I don't think of peace. I think of war. I don't understand why people would even adhere their lives to such hate."
I don't know what makes me raise my hand. Nothing has ever compelled me to speak in that class before. Early in my college years, I was much more shy than I am now. But something he said spurred all of my emotions of sadness, anger and fear. I'm griefstricken for all those who've died. I'm angry that people would be filled with such hate to do such an evil thing. I'm scared that someone can do that to me, to someone I love. I feel my fellow student's hurt. But I have to say something.
"Religion is not to blame," I say. "We can't blame religion for someone's misinterpretation of it. Islam calls for peace, not hatred. I believe that all faiths calls for love and understanding of one's neighbor. I am not Muslim, I'm Catholic. I don't attend mass every Sunday, but religion has been a big part of my life. It's enriched it, my core values of understanding, compassion and love have been developed through my religious background. I can't fault an entire religion because of the radical views of a few. But it's just tragic, so tragic, that those few can do so much harm."
Nine years later, the news runs images of Islamic extremists making new terrorizing threats. I see the horrific images and the agonizing accounts that continue to burn into our memories. I see a Christian church in Florida calling for a Quran burning. There are two groups with angry eyes and words pitted against each other not too far from where two towers fell to the ground.
There are times that I have to remind myself of what I had the courage to say in that classroom nine years ago.
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