My kindergarten year was not my most memorable year; in fact, it’s the beginning of time for when I remember anything. I am one of the many in my generation to say I remember going home that day and seeing my parents with pure horror written all over their faces. One of the images that I clearly see, almost on a daily basis, is watching the news late at night with my dad and seeing this handicapped man jumping from a window in the towers with the reporters saying all these math terms about the rate at which he was falling. It sounds very morbid for a little curly haired girl but makes me realize how precious my life is and how much I have.