My 9/11 story is a brief, but it is definitely a day I will remember for the rest of my life.

On September 11th, 2001, I was in my kindergarten class in southern Indiana. It was about two or three weeks into the school year, my first ever. I remember our teacher getting a phone call from the front office and then turning on the classroom TV so she could watch the news. I will never forget the look on her face as she watched what was going on in New York City. A look of absolute horror. I don’t exactly remember watching the TV as these events were going on, but once the second plane hit, out teacher screamed and started crying. Some of the students kind of understood, and I knew something bad had happened, but I didn’t know the extent of what was going on. A few minutes later, they called us into the cafeteria and told us to wait for our parents to come and get us. My dad came and got me and we listened to the news on the radio as one of the towers fell. When we got home, my parents told me to go to bed. Lying in bed I remember hearing my mom crying down stairs as my dad yelled at the TV saying that we need to go to war today.