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I was eight years old

Sep 11, 2009 - 0 comments
Tags:

september 11th

,

terrorist attack

,

third grade

,

realization

,

Fear

,

innocence

,

immature

,

Death

,

family

,

daddy

,

planes

,

culinary arts

,

steve

,

school

,

grandpa

,

visiting



And I was in the third grade, on 9/11. My teacher was upset, and we all watched the news. We didn't understand. We sung patriotic songs, because that's what we did back them. We didn't understand why, and we were mad. My mother was crying when I got home, and we didn't understand. My brother was in the first grade. I like to give myself credit, I like to think I'm mature for my age, I like to think I catch on, and that I comprehend. But this is the first year I cried, this is the first year I looked at it for real, and it reached me. And I'm ashamed to say the first thing that got through to me was the realization that I didn't want to die alone. And I was sad for the people that were alone, and couldn't even find a stranger in their last moments alive. And I'm really sad. And I'm watching a documentary. And I probably still don't understand.I know what I believe in, but I still don't know why I believe in it.

And my daddy flies a lot. My daddy takes a lot of planes. He could have been there, like a million other daddies were. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to get it.  I'm sorry it took me so long to be afraid.

I got fitted for my CA uniform today. I hung out with steve after school. I think I forgot to mention my Grandpa's visiting for a few days.

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