09/11/2001
I was 11 and my family was living in Montgomery, Alabama at the time.
I remember waking up that morning later than usual—my brother and I had a dentist appointment and so that meant we could sleep a bit longer.
When I walked downstairs I saw my mother crying on our couch. She was staring intensely at the television and covering her mouth with both hands. Tired and confused, I looked quickly at the television and thought to myself, ‘Why is she watching an action movie? It’s like 9 in the morning. Why is she crying over it? She hates these movies.' All I could see was smoke and fire; all I could hear was screaming and sirens.
I wanted to avoid her and I moved slowly toward the kitchen—she noticed me by the time I had reached the corner of the living room and gestured for me to sit beside her.
As I walked toward her I heard in the background, “A second plane has flown into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.”
By the time I sat myself beside her I realized she was watching the news. It wasn’t a movie.
She pulled me in closely and I felt her body trembling against mine. Her arms around me shook terribly. I had never seen my mother scared until that day. We watched in horror as the events played out. I didn’t want to believe it. I shut my eyes and cowered closer to her.
I thought to myself, 'some children won’t be held by their mother or father tonight.’
And I began to cry.
