I had just rolled out of bed, heading straight for the kitchen. Who doesn't like to eat as soon as they wake up from a nice, rested slumber? As I crossed the family room, I heard a terrible shattering noise coming from the television. It was the 7 o'clock news that my dad always clicked on in the morning. I watched on replay over and over and over again how an airplane flew into our beloved twin towers in the beautiful city of New York. I wasn't really sure if this was real--I was eight after all. It's not everyday that planes just crash into buildings. Suddenly, all those flutters of hunger and want of breakfast disappeared. At the tender age of eight years old- exactly one week before I would turn nine- I had to watch an attack on terrorism.
That entire day of fourth grade- September 11, 2001- all we talked about was war, violence, attack, terrorism. It is nothing that any fourth grader should have to listen to, but there I was sitting in a classroom watching virtually our whole country spiral out of control.
Where were you?
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