I was in college, finishing my last semester of prerequisites for nursing school, on September 11, 2001. I had an Anatomy & Physiology II lab test that morning. I woke up, got dressed, ate, and drove to school all without any television or radio; I was going over notes and needed the quiet.

I sat down at my lab table, and the tone of the room was weird. I couldn’t figure it out. My lab teacher – a grad student originally from New York – came in, white-faced, and said class was cancelled due to the recent events. I leaned over to my lab partner and whispered, “What happened?!” And then it happened; she told me of the attacks. Time stamped the moment.

As we shuffled out of class, I made my way to the Student Union and watched the horrific scenes we have all commonly experienced. I wished I was a nurse already and could help in a more tangible way.

Ten years is a long time. Much has happened in my life over its course since 9/11. I am a nurse now, and yet when I see the footage of that day, I feel those same feelings from the Student Union. Time has a way of making you forget except when it says otherwise.

Today we remember. I remember.