Every generation has its defining moments.

Where were you when they dropped the atomic… Every generation has its defining moments.

Where were you when they dropped the atomic bomb? When John F. Kennedy was assassinated? When humans first set foot on the moon? How about when the Challenger tragedy occurred?

My dad can still remember exactly how he felt, sitting in class, being told that the president had been killed in Dallas. He knows which building he was in, even the floor the elevator was on, when he got news of the Challenger’s explosion. Up until a year and a half ago, I couldn’t have thought of one time in my life when something that tragic happened, something I’d be telling my children and grandchildren about sometime in the future.

Maybe I was too young to really be affected by anything until Sept. 11, 2001. I was on my way to biology class when I heard two planes had hit the towers of the World Trade Center and another had struck the Pentagon, and I remember not being able to believe it was true. I thought it had to be a joke – but as we pre-empted class to watch the news and were mesmerized as we actually watched the first tower collapse, I knew it wasn’t. That was the first time I knew that after that point, everything as I knew it would change.

It seems that recently, that type of moment happens all too often. Monday night, with my best friend and 30 strangers in the Union, I watched as we went to war. Though war may not have been officially declared that night, watching the president spell out a forceful ultimatum to Saddam Hussein made it seem like we were already there. Nothing may have changed from what Bush has been saying for the past few weeks, but putting a timeframe on it certainly makes reality hit like a brick wall. It was easy to go to school, go to work and live life inside a bubble – war, until now, has been all talk. Even with troops already sent to the Middle East, the resolutions, the threats – war still seemed an arm’s length away. But barring an unlikely miracle, war began Wednesday night.

I don’t care if you’re for war or against it, or couldn’t be bothered either way – it’s here. You can rally for peace until you’re blue in the face, but it won’t make a difference. We’re going to have to get used to arguing war politics every day, being told to tape up our windows, and living on high or severe terror alert. We’re going to have to get used to the fact that our country is one with a score to settle, and we’re choosing to settle it with war.

The battle may be quick, but the war won’t be. The methods by which the United States takes action will certainly result in repercussions that go beyond the two weeks it will probably take to finish off Iraq. We’re entering an age where the United States has few friends and even fewer allies, and whether military action against Iraq is really necessary or not, it will forever change the way America is perceived on the world stage.

Like it or not, the moment that will define our generation happened March 17, 2003, shortly after 8 p.m. After this war, our lives won’t be the same. I can’t be sure of what I’ll be saying to my children about this war – whether I’ll be proud of what our government did, or whether I’ll be awkwardly trying to justify it, defending the wrong moves of our leaders.

I know, however, that I can start by describing the room with the red chairs, the guy who laughed out loud at one of Bush’s remarks, the cameraman recording our reactions, the way everyone in that room sat silent, captivated by our president’s chilling words. That’s how I’ll start when I’m asked, “Where were you when we went to war with Iraq in 2003?”

Where were you? Send your stories, comments, questions or declarations of love to [email protected].