9/11. I live right next to the city. I remember having my family friend pick me up from school instead of my mom, and her telling us that the Twin Towers had a plane crash into them and had fallen down.
I just remembered that kids used to take field trips there, and thought, oh, I guess they can't anymore, and said, "Aww. That's sad." I was too young to understand that anyone had been hurt, or that the planes crashing into them could have been anything but an accident.
It wasn't until we went to my friend's house and turned on the tv that I got scared. Nickelodeon was off air. Just nothing there. So I started flipping through the channels.
EVERY CHANNEL had emergency broadcasting on. News anchors trying to keep their composure. Hurried images of the towers going up in flames, people running through city blocks filled with smokes, crying, screaming, confusion.
I turned on the Spanish tv station, and as a 4th grader, watched them zoom in on a person who had jumped out of the building. Watched him plummet towards the ground. Me and my friend started sobbing.
Then when my friend asked his father if he thought this was going to start a war, and his dad said yes. I remember the rice I was eating turn bitter in my mouth and I started to cry again.
My dad worked in Staten Island and didn't get home until 11 that night, because no one had been able to get off the island. My mom and my little sisters had driven to Long Island to visit my grandfather in the hospital, and my mom had watched the towers go down from the road. She didn't come home until the next day.
My paternal grandfather had died a month before that, and then my maternal grandfather died on 9/14. 3 days later. And my dad lost a cousin who worked in the Trade Center.
I just remember sitting around and waiting for the people I loved to die. I was sure that they'd all be ripped away from me. And it was in the midst of the terror that was everywhere.
It took me a really long time to get over that fear.