I was in fourth grade, homeschooled at the time. That day, my mom (the teacher) let me and my brother have a late morning, and we were relaxing in the living room watching Spongebob Squarepants with my dad.
A call came in, and my mother got it in the kitchen. I don’t remember what she said- it was one of her sisters calling- but all the sudden she rushed over and shouted for dad to turn to the news station, any news station. Me and my brother were miffed because we wanted to watch cartoons, but they turned it on to see the first tower in flames. While both me and my brother were confused and couldn’t comprehend it, my parents were shocked and terrified- especially when the second tower was hit just moments after we turned it on.
Mom sent us up to our rooms to get dressed- and said that we would have classes upstairs (away from the TV. I didn’t understand the impact of this moment, and I asked “Is it bad, mom?”
“It’s really, really bad sweetie.”
Turning to my dad, I asked again if it was bad- if it was worse than the Titanic (that’s the only major tragedy I really knew then).
“It’s worse than that, much worse.”
I found out in later years my dad left while we were doing school and grabbed a ton of emergency supplies. It had been complete chaos at the stores, apparently others having similar thoughts. My parents were convinced it was the end, and we would be going to war.
To be fair, they weren’t wrong.