...when it happened.
I was eleven and in my second hour of science class. There was a buzz in the hall way and my teacher, Mrs. Truex, turned on the tv because she talked with a teacher across the hall. We watched the news for maybe three minutes before the principal came by and said we had to turn it off. He said it might offend some of the students. We had about 5 Arabs in my whole class. I was upset because I knew that this wasn't just any attack. I wanted to watch it. I wanted to know what was going on. Honestly, no one in friggen Coldwater had any idea that any of this was going to happen, so I don't see why he made us turn off the tv.
Once I got home, I sat with my grandma and my mom, just watching the television replay the falling towers over and over. I can remember that they were already talking about how Bush continued to read to that class of kids, even after he heard about the attacks.
I was eleven. I didn't know any one who was killed. But I did feel the effects. My cousin was sent overseas and he saw people die. His friends died. And when he was talking about it, I could just feel...it. He almost cried. My cousin, Ryan, who is almost the most macho guy I know...
This whole thing is a sad ordeal and I really can't even begin to understand how people who had family die in the towers and pentagon even feel. I hope the babies and children who's fathers or mothers had died in the attacks know that they loved them as much as it is possible to love. another person.