Not a whole lot of time had passed since the two majestic towers that had once graced the New York City skyline came tumbling down due to an act of terrorism. Many hearts still ache like open wounds for that sense of false security, but more importantly, for those lives lost that one abominable day. September 11th - the day that I, as a twenty-three year old, know is the defining moment of my generation, just like the assassination of JFK was to the generation before mine. "I remember exactly where I was when the first plane forcefully crashed into the building at 8:46 am..." With those words we will begin recounting the tale to our wide-eyed children and grandchildren, who hopefully will never have to experience the terror and fear we felt that crisp autumn day.

Memories of monumental events don't fade with time and I, along with millions of other contemporaries, will carry those memories embedded in my brain for the rest of my life. It's strange how close I feel to all those who died in the tragedy, and even to those two buildings that, like wounded giants, collapsed onto the ground below, taking down everything with them. It's strange, considering I had never met any of those people, nor have I ever been to either of the twin towers, back when they were still standing in all their glory.

The scar of the tragedy engraved itself into our hearts and onto the site. Like a gaping void, the remnants of the catastrophe state their cases to New York City and the rest of the world. As I stand there, I grasp the gravity of the situation, and even after a silent passage of time, the site overwhelms me and I almost choke on the flood of my own tears. Suddenly, I came so close to feeling the pain of all those who lost their loved ones in the events of 911. And for what cause? Why have so many lives been lost? What have we as a nation done to deserve this?

Sure, America is far from perfect. No one is perfect, but are we to give into our innermost animalistic urges and go back to primal instincts of "kill or be killed"? As I stood there, at the site of the fall on a peaceful Sunday morning, I felt far from perfect but justified to be angry.

I came to New York that weekend to see all the usual tourist spots - Times Square, MTV Studios, Museum of Modern Art, the Brooklyn Bridge, but I had never felt so connected to the land and the people around me as that morning, at the site where the Twin Towers once stood. I was ready to snap a few pictures, but had to put my camera into my back pocket at the last moment. The feeling was too much for pictures, too indescribable for words. Speechless from a numbing heartache, I walked the streets of New York city that day, glad to be alive and appreciating every step I took. I was still here, still breathing and, damn, it felt good.

My anger subsided and I began to realize that if continue hating each other with so much passion, we won't last on this Earth much longer. All political differences and countries of origin aside, we must respect our and each other's histories. We must respect where we all come from, because ultimately, we are not so terribly different from each other. Sure, men may be from Mars and women may be from Venus, but at the end of the day, we are all human.

Learn more about this author, Olha Romaniuk.
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