Dear Austin Travis
Today appears to be a day where we must reflect on things that normally we want to erase from our minds, and of course, wish never ever happend in the first place.
Suddenly looking back on today, and 4 years ago, I'm really glad to be able to say "my brother is" rather than "was". Even though every time I give you shit, or you do the same, I'm very proud of you and happy you're still around. In some odd way, I think if you weren't, a big, big chunk of me would be gone. This is something I'll never admit to you ever in person.
I was just thinking to myself, about that morning as we were commuting to school on the Staten Island Ferry how beautiful the day was. In fact, on the unusually crowded boat, I think I walked with mom a little and we agreed about how nice it was. We also saw you off in the distance, ready to get off the boat and onto Manhattan soil before everyone else since you had an early class you had to get to, and were in walking distance of school- (which also happens to be seconds away from a now mass grave site, which I have not visited, nor plan to). Mom asked where you were off to, and I shrugged it off saying you had something to do.
It was scary then, and still is to think that that could have been the last moment I would have ever seen you, that played in my head through out the time in which I didn't know what happened to you. It's also scary, and sad that there were people on the boat that may have in some way been familiar faces to me, that are now only memory.
I remember, as my US history teacher told us off-hand that he heard something had happened to the WTC, but not to worry. Immediately in class, I blurted out "My brother is there!" and was reassured that there was a good chance nothing bad was happening.
After knowing, and listening to a radio with bad reception, I never prayed so hard in my life-- to a god I'm not even really sure exists-- that you were okay and you were alive. I hate to admit it, but, I really don't know what I'd do without you.
After hearing what you went through; taking a jacket you had on, (with that Metallica patch I always teased you for, since you asked me to sow it on for you) and throwing it around a fellow classmate to shield her from falling debris, and yelling at fellow frightened students to run and don't look back, and following you to the Ferry terminal, where everyone could at least get away from what was happening.
I think, to some degree, you, as well as the teachers at your school were heroes, just like New York's finest and bravest.
As the President of your Senior class, I think you did something very few student bodies would even fathom of doing. You had to grow up and think fast in a short ammount of time, and you did a great job.
It worries me though that when you got home, dad said you were covered in aspestos, and for god knows how long. It worries me how you feel today and every other day, knowing the stories, and wondering what you, as well as many, many others, were forced to see. It makes me mad, and sad that there are people out there who can't say how lucky they are that loved ones came home safe.
I may not talk to you all that much, but, it doesn't mean I'm not proud of you. You've accomplished a lot in 4 years. You're a senior in College now, and I have no doubt in my mind you'll be successful. You're the level-headed one who stuck up for me even when I was mean to you. I may fight with you, I may call you names, but I still love you and am proud that you're my brother.
I may not be able to say all this in person, but, considering you look at my journal on occasion, maybe you'll see this. Especially since it was on my mind.
Love,
Your Little Sister.
Today appears to be a day where we must reflect on things that normally we want to erase from our minds, and of course, wish never ever happend in the first place.
Suddenly looking back on today, and 4 years ago, I'm really glad to be able to say "my brother is" rather than "was". Even though every time I give you shit, or you do the same, I'm very proud of you and happy you're still around. In some odd way, I think if you weren't, a big, big chunk of me would be gone. This is something I'll never admit to you ever in person.
I was just thinking to myself, about that morning as we were commuting to school on the Staten Island Ferry how beautiful the day was. In fact, on the unusually crowded boat, I think I walked with mom a little and we agreed about how nice it was. We also saw you off in the distance, ready to get off the boat and onto Manhattan soil before everyone else since you had an early class you had to get to, and were in walking distance of school- (which also happens to be seconds away from a now mass grave site, which I have not visited, nor plan to). Mom asked where you were off to, and I shrugged it off saying you had something to do.
It was scary then, and still is to think that that could have been the last moment I would have ever seen you, that played in my head through out the time in which I didn't know what happened to you. It's also scary, and sad that there were people on the boat that may have in some way been familiar faces to me, that are now only memory.
I remember, as my US history teacher told us off-hand that he heard something had happened to the WTC, but not to worry. Immediately in class, I blurted out "My brother is there!" and was reassured that there was a good chance nothing bad was happening.
After knowing, and listening to a radio with bad reception, I never prayed so hard in my life-- to a god I'm not even really sure exists-- that you were okay and you were alive. I hate to admit it, but, I really don't know what I'd do without you.
After hearing what you went through; taking a jacket you had on, (with that Metallica patch I always teased you for, since you asked me to sow it on for you) and throwing it around a fellow classmate to shield her from falling debris, and yelling at fellow frightened students to run and don't look back, and following you to the Ferry terminal, where everyone could at least get away from what was happening.
I think, to some degree, you, as well as the teachers at your school were heroes, just like New York's finest and bravest.
As the President of your Senior class, I think you did something very few student bodies would even fathom of doing. You had to grow up and think fast in a short ammount of time, and you did a great job.
It worries me though that when you got home, dad said you were covered in aspestos, and for god knows how long. It worries me how you feel today and every other day, knowing the stories, and wondering what you, as well as many, many others, were forced to see. It makes me mad, and sad that there are people out there who can't say how lucky they are that loved ones came home safe.
I may not talk to you all that much, but, it doesn't mean I'm not proud of you. You've accomplished a lot in 4 years. You're a senior in College now, and I have no doubt in my mind you'll be successful. You're the level-headed one who stuck up for me even when I was mean to you. I may fight with you, I may call you names, but I still love you and am proud that you're my brother.
I may not be able to say all this in person, but, considering you look at my journal on occasion, maybe you'll see this. Especially since it was on my mind.
Love,
Your Little Sister.
VIEW 18 of 18 COMMENTS
johnclement:
Very toucing. I'm very glad your 9/11 story had a silver lining. 
vyeseleph:
Aw, you're such a sweet little sis.