10 Years Later.

It's hard to believe that 10 years have passed since September 11, 2001. Hardly a day goes by still where you don't hear some mention of "9/11" - it has become such a pivotal moment in our political and cultural history. But the word "history" is somehow inaccurate - the wound still feels fresh.

I remember exactly how and when I found out. I awoke alone, in my new apartment on Vancouver Street in Victoria, to CBC Radio, as always. It was 7:00 a.m. The sun was streaming in the bedroom window. As I yawned and stretched, I heard Cecilia Walters say gravely, "The United States is under attack." I was confused, and looked at my alarm clock to see what time it was - this was supposed to be the news, wasn't it, not some dramatic re-enactment? All too quickly I realized it was the news, and shot out of bed, looking for somewhere, anywhere to go, to hide. I suddenly felt like I was under attack, that Victoria could be next, that nowhere was safe. Inexplicably, I immediately felt like I was being watched, that an unknown enemy was somehow tracking my every move, and I couldn't shake that feeling for some time.

I called my parents at home, and they told me they had just watched the second tower fall live on television. I don't remember much of the conversation after that. I remember getting dressed slowly. I unpacked a new pair of tights, and thought, "People couldn't get these in wartime. I'm going to know what it feels like to live through a war now."

I had to head to UVic, where I was in my first week of my first year of law school. I didn't want to go, but I didn't know what else to do. I remember listening to CBC on my old AM/FM Walkman, walking to the bus at the corner of Fort and Cook, getting on wordlessly, and riding in a daze to campus, wondering if another attack would happen at any minute. Maybe it would be here. Who knew? In the Students' Lounge, I found a group of students huddled around a radio they had taken from Maria, who ran the sandwich shop. I joined the throng and we sat there, silent - the pontificating at which law students excel came much later.

When class convened a few minutes later, our professor, Hamar Foster, had the good sense not to try to teach. I can't remember what he said to us that day, but I remember that it was wise, and reassuring, and it made me feel better.

Later that afternoon I went home to my parents' house. I didn't want to be alone, and I wanted to see the television coverage. Later that night I wished I hadn't seen it - the truth was more horrific than I had even imagined, listening to the radio - and the networks played the footage of the towers collapsing over and over again. It somehow became meaningless and obscene all at the same time. Nevertheless, I remember lying on the carpet in front of the family room TV for hours that night, transfixed.

And what happened on September 12, 2001? I can't remember a thing.