I do remember I was in second grade, in Mrs. Cryer’s class. Our biggest worry that day was if we would get to sit with our friends at lunch, and New York City could have been on another planet as far as we were concerned. When our teachers grew quiet and worried, most of us didn’t even give it a second thought.  We were just mad not to have recess. No one told us something terrible, something that would go down in our history textbooks, had happened.

 When my mother finally picked me up from school, I was more curious than worried. Until I saw that she was anxious, just like the teachers. Hearing about the fall of the Twin Towers was frightening, confusing, and I watched the news with my parents, trying to understand. Though my family had no direct contact to anybody there, watching those burning buildings fall, over and over, was enough to leave an imprint in our minds forever.

That September day opened my eyes to the terrible things people can do to other people. I guess in a way, I still don’t understand why misunderstanding and hatred could cause a group to fly planes into buildings, to wreck the lives of people, good and bad. I don’t think anyone could really understand it. But I do know that even ten years later, our lives are all colored by the events that transpired on 9-11.