I had just entered into fourth grade. It was my first year in a public school, let a lone a new state. My family had moved from South Dakota to Virginia, a long four day trip. I was a couple days into my classes and had already suffered from the boy sitting next to me vomiting on my shoe the first day of school. For the most part I do not remember how my day started, most likely the usual way of waking up, getting dressed, eating breakfast, and heading to the bus stop (to paraphrase one of our favorite singers, Rebecca Black). But, what I do remember vividly was how quickly the environment at school had changed when the news feed reported an attack on the Twin Towers. Coming from South Dakota, I had no idea what these two buildings were and I was ignorant of what the Pentagon was since I had lived nowhere near New York. I could gather, however, that to my classmates and teachers these buildings were not only important, but personal. Many had family members working in the buildings or new of friends who had family members in those buildings. Fear and anxiety began to permeate.
With the sudden news, parents came to pick up their children early from school. My mother picked up my sister and me and we drove home. I still was having a hard time grasping what was going on around me. When we got home the TV was on, showing the video footage of the first twin tower on fire from where it was hit. My mother tried to explain to me the importance of the buildings and what the news meant by terrorist attack, but the only thing I could really understand was when my parents told us we need to pray for the people and families undergoing such a tragic experience.
My thoughts and prayers are still with all those who experienced a loss or pain from this heartbreaking day.
