History Waits for No One (Especially Not for Me)

When the first plane hit the towers I was in my dorm room bed with a cold. My roommate told me what happened.  I got up anyway.  The second plane hit while I was walking to class.  A third hit the Pentagon during lecture.  Professors began sobbing.  Atheists prayed.  Explanations came, but not answers.

Ten years later, I went to bed uncharacteristically early.  Then TVs cheered the news.  College kids danced in the streets.  The man responsible for all those deaths was no longer getting away with it.  I was rearranging my pillow.
 

History happened, and I was in bed.