where were you?

i was eight. I woke up in my parents bed, my dad had been working out of town so I got to sleep next to my mama in his place. it was early, and I remember it being really quiet. I went into our living room and I saw people crying on the television, even then the morning felt still and quiet. my mom was crying, I didn't know why. i instantly thought of my dad, there must be something wrong with him, my mom assured me that there wasn't. the phone rings. I read the words "new york" on the tv screen, my aunt and uncle live there, I panicked thinking something bad is happening to them, my mom assured me that there wasn't. the phone rings again. what is going on? my eight year old self didn't understand a whole lot about that day. but I did know that there were a lot of people who were scared something horrible had happened to their family member, but nobody could assure them that there wasn't. and my heart broke for them. my heart still breaks thirteen years later. & thank you to all who sacrificed their life on that day, you will always be remembered by me.

(a post card I got in new york a year after 9/11)