My sister came rushing into my room to wake me up. I remember the details like it happened yesterday.
“Hey, I don’t want to scare you,” she said, playing the role of parent as both my mom and dad had already left for work. “But there’s been a terrorist attack in New York City. Two planes have crashed into the World Trade Center.”
I may have only been in sixth grade, but I feel like I was just old enough to wrap my head around the magnitude of what she was saying, at least partially.
My mom followed up with a phone call and told me to avoid the news.