Brooklyn. September 11, 2001.
It really does feel like yesterday. There were whispers of a bad accident throughout my high school. Math class, second period, our classroom was facing the city. There was smoke. The school let us out early. The buses were so overcrowded that they were struggling to move. Instead of going straight home I went to Richie’s Luncheonette, and saw the videos for the first time. They scared me.
As I walked home, it was snowing ash. It was surreal. I came home, expecting to deliver the news to my dad. He already knew. He was somber. Mom was at work.
It was at this point that I thought the two planes were only the beginning. I expected the worst. I believed that this was the end for us. I brought my toddler sister into my room, and we colored together.