Never forget.

Those hellish places we’ve been? As awful as they were, they’re what shaped us into who we are today. Not one of us would be the same if it weren’t for that fateful day eleven years ago.

I was just an innocent third grader, waiting in line for lunch with my friends, when a classmate started telling us about how her mom, who was a teacher at our school, had told her about how two planes had crashed into the twin towers. At the tender age of eight, I called her a liar. Because at the tender age of eight, bad things just don’t happen. Or at least they shouldn’t.

I don’t really remember the rest of the school day.

After my younger sister and I got off the school bus, my mom took us all to my grandparents house. There we spent the rest of the day in front of the TV, watching that terrible scene as it was replayed over and over. I cried. Even then I understood. I knew about the pain of others, and tears that danced down my face couldn’t begin to express my sorrow for all those who wouldn’t get to hold there loved ones that day the way my mom was holding me.

9/11/2001

May we pray for all those affected, and hope that nothing like this tragedy ever happens again.

Always,
L.A.