I was 14. A freshman in high school sitting in Spanish class without a care in the world besides how my hair looked and what outfit I would pull from my closet the next day. But around 9:00 the world changed. America was under attack. The teacher turned on the television and I saw the planes. I didn't understand what a terrorist was and my teacher didn't take the time to explain. To my knowledge America was untouchable and nothing like war could be raged on her. I remember thinking "guess my dad is going to be working late", he works at the airport. I was scared, but the tremendous impact of what had just happened did not resonate just yet.
I remember getting in the car after school and my mom saying "this means we are going to war". Oh and then it hit that this wasn't just an accident, no it was an intentional act of violence, an act fueled by Satan and pure hate. At that moment I knew that I was blessed to be alive and suddenly tomorrow's outfit didn't matter so much. For, what matters is that I was alive, my family was not close to the disaster, but others were, and that I will never forget.