I remember that awful morning which shook all of America… My father was waking me up at 5:30 a.m. (Pacific time) to get ready for school. My dad had to be in the office by 7:30 a.m. so I had to take a quick shower (7 minutes tops) so that my dad wouldn’t be late and so that my brother could go next after breakfast. I remember being pretty happy. I just celebrated my 10th birthday two days ago (9/9/01) and I was still feeling lively from a party that I had that Sunday. Once I climbed out of the shower, I took my time to dress (maybe another ten minutes or so). Breakfast had been made while I showered. We lived in an apartment and you could see the television in the living room from our tiny dining area by the kitchen. What I hadn’t known yet was that the World Trade Center had been hit. I enter our kitchen area and climb up onto my seat at the table to find a bowl of hot oatmeal ready for me to eat. I noticed my dad standing in the living room in front of the TV, looking a little flustered, his hand cupped over his mouth. Sometimes when you’re young, you don’t care about the news or “adult-related” things that well… I always figured it was grown-up stuff. From what my brother recalls, as he had been at the table long before me, my dad just barely got the food on the table when the news flashed the first plane on the TV and my dad gasped as he hurried into the living room, nearly fumbling other dishes he used to make our breakfast. As I was finally up at the table, my father looked over at me and said I needed to see something. He moved away from the TV when I saw the disaster that was going on. I didn’t feel sadness at first, nor shock, nor fear.. .nor anything, really. I wasn’t a jerk of a kid and I sure as heck wasn’t still happy about my birthday-weekend (what with sudden news) but I guess I was just confused. My dad gave a mournful sigh as he left the room. I was trying to enjoy my food, slowly eating my oatmeal and toast while watching the TV. The time in New York must’ve been 9:03 a.m. (6:03 a.m. my time) when just as I was about to put another spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth, I witnessed the second plane hit the Southern tower. The news went frantic. I dropped my spoon and went stiff in shock. I quickly called out to my dad to come see the news as they rolled the footage once more. And that was all I remembered of that morning. I have a journal in my room somewhere. It was a journal that my 4th grade teacher had me write and illustrate in every Monday. On that Tuesday, we still went to school because I do recall having to watch the news all day with my fellow classmates to try to understand the damages 9/11 had caused. I think my teacher also had us write about it that day because in my old journal, I wrote a remorseful entry and a drawing of the twin towers burning. And that was it…