Emily's Journal: 9/12/11

     Since yesterday was the tenth anniversary of September 11th, Mr. Turner has ask us to write about that day. I was in second grade. It was a little over two years since Mom had left. I remember I was scared, because Dad said the Twin Towers were in New York, and I knew Mom was in New York.
     I don't remember much else, but I didn't understand a lot of what was actually going on. Dad didn't tell me much, but I remember he wasn't happy about something that Tuesday morning. Since New York is five hours ahead of us, it was early in the morning our time when the attacks actually happened. We didn't find out about it until they interrupted my TV show I was watching that morning while getting ready for school. I didn't understand what was going on. When Dad told me someone had crashed planes into the Twin Towers, I was shocked. I was only six when it happened.
     But I knew Mom was in New York, and I was afraid. Obviously nothing bad happened to her, since she's alive today and I saw her a few years ago, but I was still scared. (Sorry, Mr. Turner. I know you hate run-ons.)
     I really don't remember much else. It was ten years ago, and I was in second grade. Mostly what I remember is being afraid for Mom. Because even though she had left us, I never wanted anything to happen to her, and I know Dad felt the same way. I do remember that Dad didn't stop talking about it. Actually, everyone one was talking about it. My nanny, who wasn't one of my favorites, wouldn't stop talking about it. It had everyone confused and scared. Even here, in Hawaii, on the other side of the country. I really didn't understand it. I was afraid because of Mom. And after we saw picture, I was more afraid. I had no idea what had happened.
     One more thing. I left New York when I was four. But we have pictures of me standing by the Twin Towers. It's hard to believe they could be gone so fast. When I went back to New York in 2008, we walked by Ground Zero. It's so weird to think that there's nothing there now.
     And that's all I want to say here. I can't talk about it anymore. There's too much pain behind this, and I don't feel right pouring my heart out into a journal that I have to turn in. Sorry, Mr. Turner. It's nothing against you. I just can't do that. Besides, you just told us we had to stop writing. So this is all.