Some petty drama and some not-so-petty memories

Today, my focus has just been on rushing. My serious thoughts were turned towards wondering how many invitations I was offered, how I came off to the members of the sororities... Which, I was only invited back to one, and hopefully I get invited back again tomorrow... the wait is until nine this time... I also realized that two sororities probably didn't want me back because of the scars on my arms. Lame. I'm still very concerned with that... also lame. But I realize, as all of you should, that the only person who has the right to decide what is petty or important in your life is you. I feel this is important, and so it is.

Today, what I do not wish to focus on is September 11, 2001. Not because of the terrorist attacks, though I remember that well. Fourth grade, Mrs. Lawson's class, Bill J. Elliot Elementary School. There wasn't an announcement for the whole school to hear, it was calls to each teacher. And then they turned on the news. Is there anyone who doesn't remember the continuous clip of the first plane hitting the first tower? Over and over and over, the fiery explosion... the plan hits the building... and the smoke and flames burst out.... again and again... Over and over. And then the second tower. And the pentagon. And the heroes that crashed in that Pennsylvania field.  Parents were checking their kids out of school early, by two in the afternoon Eddie and I were the only ones left.   We looked on the internet, where there was a picture of Osama Bin Laden. And I remember marveling at how any creature could be awful enough to plan this out, to kill all those people. And I was afraid that we would die that way... in a fiery explosion....  there were no planes in the sky... it was so blue and empty without cloud trails painted clearly through the clouds.... I hope to never see that sight again...

But that is not my bad memory of September 11th. My bad memory is my grandfather going into the hospital again... the second to last time I believe, or maybe it was the last. He died the following summer. He went into the hospital... that same one that he died at over the summer. Driving home from the hospital we got into a car accident... It hurt.

This is what I remember, this is the important thing that happened to me on September 11. This is the memory I've been clawing off the skin on my arm about while writing this. Not the towers, my grandpa. Maybe it is petty to you, but it is not to me. As I said... only we can decide what is important in our lives, and what is petty.

Love,

Alice