On September 11th, 2001 I was in the first grade. I went to a Lutheran school in central Florida and was very fortunate. I had never heard of the word “terrorist” never knew of the existence of any human horrible enough to kill someone. I was very innocent and youthful and the best moments of my day were coming home and playing with my Polly pockets. However, on this particular end of summer, nearing fall day it all changed. My class was walking back from lunch and the worst thing I could remember thinking was, “If I step on a crack I’m gonna break my moms back!” My teacher suddenly stopped us in the middle of the crosswalk (it wasn’t a public street) and quieted our chants of “you’ve got coodies!” And innocent laughter. At the time I didn’t think anything of it but now I imagine how hard it was for her to tell us about this accident. I still to this day remember what she said, “Something has happened in New York, an accident. Some of your parents should pick you up shortly.” It was Florida so I imagine parents weren’t as frantic to pick their child up as most were in the north, as I stayed at school the rest day. That is all I remember of my September day; that crosswalk talk. I do not remember being picked up or going home to watch the news. When I think of September 11th I think of that crosswalk.