I was in the 3rd grade at the time. So I was probably about 9. It was lunch time and I remember sitting at the lunch table, talking and goofing around with my friends. I was so happy that day, I didn’t think anything could go wrong. All of a sudden though, my name was called.

I was confused. I thought “Why would I be going home?” I got up anyways and grabbed my lunch. A tall man was waiting for me to go to the office. he looked very flustered and anxious. I wasn’t to worried though.

When I got to the office, my little brother was their also, along with my mom. She hurriedly checked us out and we went home. I kept asking what the matter was, but she wouldn’t answer me.

We got home, and thats when I found out what happened.

On our t.v it showed two tall buildings, the twin towers, smoking and burning. People were running and screaming and falling over. They even showed people jumping out of buildings. I was so scared watching that, I wanted to go hide in the basement.

Ever since that day, every time I hear a plane, I think “Oh great, today is the day they drop a bomb on us.” I hate that my dad works downtown in a huge building, it makes me so nervous. I hate them for doing this. They have left this country in fear, and anxiety, not knowing what its next.