Ten years ago

I was in college, in Norman, Oklahoma.  My mother called - I was never an early riser - and said "we're under attack."  I got dressed and went to campus for classes anyway, not sure what else to do.  The professor for my first class showed up late, visibly drunk, and said, "What are you all doing here?  Go home."  I stayed on campus, though.  I had at least one more class to see canceled, and I lived alone.  I didn't really want to be alone.  As I walked, I heard one woman meet a friend: "She's okay, she's safe," I remember her saying.  They'd pulled TVs outdoors outside several of the buildings, and students gathered around them in semi-circles.  In the afternoon, when the link to Al-Qaeda and Afghanistan was being made, I remember one girl saying to a friend "this must be what it was like right after Pearl Harbor." 

The weather was absolutely beautiful.  I think it was like that all over the country that day.  

We didn't know how it was all going to be twisted and misused, then.  All I remember feeling was horribly sad, because a lot of people had died.