Every generation has their thing that they will be asked where they were when something tragic happened. For my grandparents it was Pearl Harbor. For my parents, JFK. For me, September 11th, 2001.

It's hard to believe that it's been 2 years already. I remember finishing up microbiology lab and Dr. Ryan telling us that a plane had crasehed into the WTC. At first, I thought that it was a tragic accident, then Dr. Ryan went on explaining how people might start to blame the Muslim international students and how we should help to support them because it's not their fault. I remember the shock and anger across campus. Everyone was glued to their televisions. I remember the anger too. The anger that we were one of the few schools in the state that was still having class. No one really functioned in class that day. And there was the anger that someone had dared to attack America. I remember my mom calling me that night to make sure that I was ok and that I had gas because gas prices were jumping. I also remember her being worried about me driving home that weekend for a wedding. I remember the music too, hearing the same news excerpts over and over. I remember being glued to the television and falling asleep with it on CNN. And I remember how I felt when someone asked me the next week why I had a red white and blue ribbon pinned to my book bag.

I remember. I will always remember. I will never forget.