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    It is difficult to process that a quarter-century has passed since September 11, 2001. By now, none of us are strangers to how fast time moves, but that number—25 years—hits with a heavy, distinct weight. Even though the tragedy unfolded in the United States, its echo resonated across the entire globe, reshaping the modern world in an instant. For those of us who watched from afar, we may not have experienced the immediate ground-zero trauma, but the collective fear, grief, and loss of innocence changed our lives forever.

​    I was 11 years old, but I remember that morning with startling clarity. I was getting ready for school on a crisp, stunningly sunny September day, having just started fifth grade in a small town, Nestor Falls, Ontario. As a Millennial, my childhood existed in that sweet spot right before smartphones and social media took over. Beyond the local newspaper, satellite and cable TV were our family’s primary gateways to entertainment and breaking news.

That morning, I was sitting in front of the television watching YTV, a Canadian kids' network, when my cartoons were abruptly cut off by a breaking news broadcast out of New York City. The news anchor announced that a plane had struck one of the World Trade Center towers, and live footage showed heavy smoke billowing into the blue sky.

​A what? Hit what?

​   Confused and mildly annoyed that my morning TV show had been interrupted before school, my mood shifted the exact moment I heard my mother gasp. Steam exhaled from the iron she was using behind me on some clothes. Looking up at her face, I saw sheer horror. I realized immediately that whatever was happening on that screen was deeply, terrifyingly serious. My sister was already en-route to high school in Fort Frances, so my parents and I sat glued to the screen together through breakfast, completely frozen until it was time for me to head out the door to my elementary school.

​   We lived atop our family’s source of income: a hotel and restaurant in Northwestern Ontario. When it first happened, my dad was cooking in the kitchen for our guests, mostly American tourists who had traveled north to fly-in fish and hunt. Immediately after the news broke, calls came through to the few guests who had cell phones. Planes were grounded, and the nearby border crossings in Fort Frances and Rainy River were temporarily closed. It was chaos.

​   Before I left, my mom asked me to inform the secretary at my small, two-room schoolhouse about what was unfolding. When I arrived, I ran inside and blurted out to the secretary and my teacher that the World Trade Center had been bombed. The secretary gave me the exact same puzzled look I had worn just thirty minutes earlier, wondering what on earth this 11-year-old was talking about.

​   It wasn't long, however, before reality set in. Soon enough, the old, heavy TV mounted on a rolling metal cart, a familiar artifact Gen Z might only recognize from memes, was wheeled into our classroom so we could watch the news live as history unfolded.

Canadian kids are taught basic geography, so many of us knew where New York City was on a map. But as young students, processing the sheer scale and horror of the event was nearly impossible. Overnight, words like terrorist, hijacking, explosion, 9/11, and Ground Zero forced their way into our daily vocabulary.

​    We watched in shock as the events in downtown New York City were followed by the attack on the Pentagon in Virginia. We would also later learn about Flight 93, where heroic passengers and crew fought back against the hijackers, sacrificing their own lives to force the plane down in a Pennsylvania field before it could reach its intended target in Washington, D.C. In a matter of minutes, a world that had felt safe and predictable felt entirely fragile.

​   For the next decade, the world shifted on its axis. Fear became a constant backdrop to global news, and world politics became a topic I had to understand far earlier than I would have liked. The tragic events of that morning launched a new era marked by military interventions abroad, most notably the conflict in Afghanistan, as nations grappled with an unprecedented threat to global stability and security.

​    Tragically, the fallout extended far beyond the physical destruction of that day. The attacks not only claimed thousands of lives on September 11th, but they also altered the daily lives of countless people around the globe. In the tense atmosphere that followed, widespread fear and uncertainty gave rise to heightened social divides and mistrust, leaving many communities navigating a much more sensitive and difficult public climate. National security priorities shifted, borders tightened, and the balance between civil liberties and public safety was permanently redefined.

​    Years later, during a trip to New York City with my sister, we visited the National September 11 Memorial & Museum. Walking through the underground space brought a heavy, solemn feeling that is hard to put into words. Standing near the twisted steel and quiet exhibits brought a visceral sense of grief, but I felt it was necessary to witness that history up close. The aftereffects of 9/11 didn't end when the dust settled in 2001; they redirected global politics, led to prolonged international conflicts, claimed thousands of additional lives through fallout illnesses, and fundamentally reshaped how an entire generation grew up.

​   September 11th remains a profound milestone in modern history, one that anyone old enough to witness will never forget. As we mark 25 years, it is critical that we continue to honour the lives lost, recognize the sacrifices made by first responders and heroes, reflect on the lessons of unity and resilience, and remember how that single morning changed our world forever.

​To my readers: As we look back on twenty-five years, where were you, and what were you doing, when you first heard the news on September 11th?