On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was 5 years old, and in kindergarten. I remember waking up that morning. My elementary school, just 25 miles north of New York City, had morning and afternoon kindergarten. I was in the afternoon kindergarten class. I remember waking up to my mother watching something on TV, although I’m not entirely sure it was the Breaking News that was on EVERY channel. It probably was. My father, who worked in New Jersey (near Manhattan), came home early that day. He played ball with me in the yard like nothing was going on. I believe he did this so I wouldn’t worry about anything. I then remember my mother telling my father one of the towers collapsed. Collapsed. That was the first time I heard that word. I wish I remember more. I wish I remember the World Trade Center prior to 9/11. I wish I remember that awful day more vividly. But I don’t remember the World Trade Center prior to 9/11, and I don’t remember that day much. I feel like I should. I feel like it’s important to remember. Even though I didn’t know anyone who died that day, we were all affect. We, as Americans, as people of the same Earth saw evil that day and we were ALL affect. ALL of us on this Earth.