Towards the end of the FÁS working day, the course lecturer announced in a matter of a fact way that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. It sparked a small conversation amongst my fellow students and suggested that it was probably a small aircraft like a Cessna.
As we were going home on the DART, not much more was said about the incident. It felt insignificant.
When I got home I turned on Sky News and got the shock of my life when I finally realised what had happened. Not long after I turned on the TV, the second plane hit. It was no longer insignificant. The TV and I seemed alone at home. The TV was on, but I was not. It was like being punched on an empty stomach.
When my mother came home, she reminded me that my cousin, Ciarán, worked nearby. The two buildings collapsed. There was screaming on the TV, again there was silence in the room.
I cannot remember when my mother finally got in contact with my aunt, Emer, but thankfully, he worked in a building on the next block and was safe.
9/11 still resonates and it will never be forgotten.