I woke up at 6:30 am. I dragged my little seven-year-old feet down our 70's style tile-floor hallway. My mom walked by, looking frazzled. She was on the phone.
"Becky?" she was calling my aunt, "Are you thinking about keeping your kids home?... Oh. I was hoping you would say 'No, Sharon. That's silly.'"
Stay home from school? Sounds inviting. "Why mom?"
I turned into the living room and saw the thick dark gray smoke pouring from the building. My mom stood beside me. I wasn't scared until the second plane hit and my mother gasped.
This doesn't seem normal... went through my head. How did an airplane hit that tower? How long ago did this happen? Is this normal, and I'm just too little to know? Where did this happen?
My mom tried explaining it to me. I didn't really understand. A plane hit a building called the World Trade Center. It was in New York. To heck if I knew where New York was.
I was intrigued. I rolled it over in my head for a while before my mom decided to drive me to school. I had so many questions, but I kept quiet for the most part. I didn't know what to ask.
Stay home from school? Sounds inviting. "Why mom?"
I turned into the living room and saw the thick dark gray smoke pouring from the building. My mom stood beside me. I wasn't scared until the second plane hit and my mother gasped.
This doesn't seem normal... went through my head. How did an airplane hit that tower? How long ago did this happen? Is this normal, and I'm just too little to know? Where did this happen?
My mom tried explaining it to me. I didn't really understand. A plane hit a building called the World Trade Center. It was in New York. To heck if I knew where New York was.
I was intrigued. I rolled it over in my head for a while before my mom decided to drive me to school. I had so many questions, but I kept quiet for the most part. I didn't know what to ask.
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