I remember, do you?

When the planes hit the towers I was in my sixth grade English class and we were about to start the morning announcements. I didn't know what the towers were, to be honest. But I couldn't be apathetic when I saw that my teacher was sobbing and running for the phone. That's when I realized the full extent of what had happened. 

If you asked me what terrorism was, I wouldn't have been able to tell you. If you asked me what the towers were, I'd have no answer. But I knew that people were dead-- people like my teacher's pregnant daughter. We watched the television in the cramped portable on the school grounds and saw those towers crumble before our youthful eyes. I don't know why I cried. Perhaps it was when they escorted my teacher away. In a way, I didn't want her to cry alone. 


A few years later they sent my brother away, and we held a candle light ceremony for him before he left. Suddenly I was one of the people in the towers as they were being evacuated. I was terrified and desperate, wondering "Why me? Why him? Why us?"

Me and my Brother Danny

Remember the fallen, remember those effected, and remember those saved.