I was sixteen years old, sitting in my etymology class, when the world changed. We all know where we were. We all have that moment. The room. The person next to us. The television we watched. The phone call we received. For me, that classroom is my before moment. Everything that came next was after. I remember the fear. The confusion. The unimaginable tragedy unfolding in front of us. But I also remember what came next. For a moment, we were simply human beings grieving together. Strangers looked out for strangers. Neighbors became family. We held each other closer. We were reminded how fragile life is—and how much we need one another. I wish we could find more of that humanity without first experiencing the tragedy. Twenty-five years later, I still think about that sixteen-year-old girl sitting in a classroom, not yet knowing she was living through a dividing line between before and after. Today, I remember the lives lost, the families forever changed, the people who ran toward danger to help others—and the humanity that united us in the days that followed. We all remember where we were. May we never forget what happened. And may we never forget how we found one another afterward. 📸 @norski085