First, go read this post by Meg Cabot.
Now, I'm only 17. Which means I was in second grade when "the events of September 11th," occurred. I never quite understood that phrasing. It's too clinical, too brief to summarize what happened. But that really is beside the point.
The only thing I remember from that day was the announcement made throughout the school telling all staff to turn off their TVs after the second tower was hit. That, and my mom telling me what happened on the car ride home from school, basically came out to: "Bad people made the towers fall, people were hurt." Other things were tossed around, names like Osama Bin Laden and different terms I didn't understand. I also remember a lot of crying adults.
For years, I understood that people were killed and hurt and missing and that made the towers being hit sad, but nothing more. It wasn't until just a few years ago I began to realize the true impact it had. Because I was like, seven, when everything went down I'm not going to try and preach about anything.
Just...
go hug your family.
And maybe a stranger or two, because today of all days a stranger shouldn't be just another face in the street.
