I was a sophomore in college on September 11th. I have all sorts of memories of the day—the horror, the sadness, the fear—but what lingers most isn’t only the tragedy, it’s the humanity.
When classes were suspended, I found myself unable to sit with friends and watch the news. The endless replay of the planes hitting the towers consumed me. My university was in northern New Jersey, a commuter borough to Manhattan, and the tragedy felt unbearably close. From the top of our tallest dorm building, the smoke was visible—an unshakable reminder that this was not just happening on a screen, but only miles away.
I wandered into the college cafeteria, buying a soda, not even realizing the steady stream of tears running down my face. The cashier, a middle-aged woman, reached for my hand as I went to pay and softly said, “I’ve got you.” She held my hand—really held it—for several minutes. I didn’t know her name, hadn’t memorized her face before, but suddenly, in that moment, she became a source of strength, comfort, and love I didn’t even know I needed. That quiet gesture steadied me when the world felt off its axis, a reminder that even in the darkest hours, our shared humanity can hold us together.
Today, America is going through a tough and violent time, and the news of Charlie Kirk’s death feels especially heavy. The grief of senseless violence echoes against the backdrop of September 11th—a day when the world was forever altered. On days like this, I am reminded that while tragedy can fracture us, it is often compassion and small acts of kindness that sustain us. We will never forget the lives lost, nor the ways love, courage, and solidarity rise up in the darkest hours.
The Forty Files 