A day I’ll always remember

Sept. 11, 2001 was one of the most tragic days in American history — a day when time seemed to stand still in a moment so surreal, on a day when hundreds of Americans lost their lives.

Many vividly recall their Sept. 11 story. This is mine.

Just 15 years old and a sophomore at Long Beach High School, I awoke at a time that seemed too early for the day to begin. What I thought would remain just another mundane school day would soon turn into a true-life nightmare.

The sky so blue and the sun sitting low on the horizon, I took the bus to school and the day began.

Once able to see the World Trade Center building across the bay into Manhattan, I took the distanced skyline for granted. This day was no exception.

When a classmate told me took look out the window following computer class, where, she said, smoke was billowing from 1 World Trade Center, I brushed off the request and, in a rush, headed to my next class. “It’s probably nothing,” I said.

As the hours wore on, students suspected something was wrong, but the administration withheld information about the goings on and rumors trickled down the halls.

Despite our lack of information, too many students were picked up by parents in the middle of the day and after-school activities were canceled — actions that did not ease palpable anxiety. Most everyone was noticeably concerned.

Finally able to leave school, with a somewhat early dismissal, I took the bus home, immediately turned on the news and was slammed with men, women and children running for their lives away from burning World Trade Center buildings as NYPD and FDNY risked their lives and ran in.

My first concern was for my mother who worked as a teacher in Queens. However, I would later learn, when listening to phone messages, my father was in Manhattan for a meeting.