I don’t remember everything that happened that day, or week, but I do remember that moment that the news began to broadcast it. I was in third grade, and I vaguely remember eating breakfast at the dining table. My mother was in the room next door, watching the television. I remember her running into the dining room, screaming in Chinese, “Come quick, come quick!”
I have never seen my mother so panicked before, so I ran into the room. I remember vividly that my grandmother was crying on the couch. I was too young to fully grasp what all happened, but I knew it was bad, very bad. I remember seeing on TV, the twin towers burning. (At that time I didn’t know it was the twin towers, I just saw two really tall buildings with smoke billowing out of them) I remember seeing the buildings collapse, and wondering to myself, “What about all the people inside?” (Of course, I was just a kid, so my question wasn’t one of deep philosophical meaning, I really didn’t know what happened to those people.) I remember my mother crying and telling me that she thought we just got attacked. I remember my grandmother, who survived WW2, telling us that we might be at war again, and that this might be like Pearl Harbor. I remember being scared, and panicked.
That’s the only way I am able to remember this moment as well as I can. Seeing my grandmother and my mother with so much emotion really impacted me.
Even though I don’t know anyone who passed away in 9/11, I was, and still am, affected by the events that happened. I remember crying on the second anniversary of 9/11, when I finally understood what really happened that day.
To those of you who have lost a loved one on that fateful day, I am sincerely sorry for your loss.