In some ways, it's hard to believe that the terrorist attacks of September 11th were only seven years ago this week. But in other ways, the memories of that day are still fresh in my mind.

It was my junior year of high school, and as usual, I was running a little late as I drove myself to school that morning. I was waiting to make the left turn into the school's parking lot around 8 o'clock when my cell phone rang. My mom asked me if I had been listening to the radio and if I had heard anything about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. I hadn't been listening to the radio that morning, so I turned on a local talk station as I made my way to a parking space. The announcers didn't seem to know much about what was happening - only that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. I figured it was probably a small private plane whose pilot either got lost in bad weather or went on a solo suicide mission. The thought of it being a deliberate, terrorist attack never even entered my mind as I walked into school.

We had club meetings that morning, and I was a member of my school's political awareness club. We usually talked about current events, and since I was late, I was the only person who had heard the news of the plane hitting the World Trade Center. Our club's advisor began looking at national news websites to try to get more information, but we weren't able to learn much about what was happening at the time. We were discussing other political matters when another teacher entered the room at about 8:15. He had been listening to another radio program on his way to school, and said he heard reports that the towers had been deliberately attacked. I immediately dismissed that news as speculation, still thinking that it had been nothing more than an tragic accident.

Our teachers decided to head down the hall to the library, hoping to find a TV. It took several minutes to wheel a TV into a room adjacent to the library where it could be hooked up to cable. There were about 20 of us gathered in the room when the TV was turned on. The first thing we saw was the video of United Flight 175 hitting the second World Trade Center tower. The room was filled with a stunned silence. After several long seconds, I broke the silence by saying:

"That was no accident."

It was an almost involuntary reaction to what I saw. To that point, I had suspected that it had been nothing more than a minor accident. But at that moment, my heart sank. I knew that thousands of people were going to die. We stayed to watch the news coverage for only a few minutes before the first period bell rang and we had to go to class.

Classes that morning were a futile exercise. My thoughts were with the people in New York: those both on the planes and in the twin towers. Rumors flew through the hallways during passing periods. First I heard that one tower had collapsed, then that both towers had fallen. Our librarian had moved the TV into the library where more people could see it. I could only glance through the doorway as I headed down the hall to my next class. I saw only a large column of smoke on the New York City skyline, and figured that the smoke was shrouding the buildings from view. I didn't think there was any way that both towers could have collapsed.

Around 10:30, our principal gathered everyone for an assembly in the school's auditorium. He told everyone what had been happening in New York and Washington, and told us we could go home if our parents gave us permission. My mind immediately raced - where was my father? He would normally be at work, but that day he was at a conference in Las Vegas. Was he okay? Was anything happening in Las Vegas? Would he be able to get home? Obviously, he was a long way from the events of that day, but at the time there was so much confusion that I worried something might happen. I wasn't able to get in touch with my dad right away, but when I called home my mom told me that she had talked with him and that everything was okay.

I drove home later that morning with a lot on my mind. I still remember driving past the lines of cars waiting to get gas, and how thankful I was that I had filled my tank the day before. I remember getting home and turning the TV off after little more than two hours, unable to watch the constant barrage of violence, death, and destruction that filled the airwaves that day. I remember how happy I was when my dad arrived back home a few days later. Unable to get a rental car, one of his coworkers bought a minivan so their group could make the long drive home to Kansas City.

Like I said, it's hard to believe that was only seven years ago. I know a lot of you out there probably have some interesting memories from that day; feel free to use the "Post Your Comments" section to share your stories.