Being a kid in NYC during 9/11 was terrifying. I was in 6th grade, and suddenly kids were being brought to the principals office to go home. Finally they brought all the kids into the auditorium, and told us that something bad had happened. Rumors spread like wildfire.

Not a one was correct at what had actually happened. Eventually it was my turn to go home, and my dad picked me up and we got into his old minivan. On the way home he was shouting, but I don't remember distinctly what. We were listening to 1010 WINS and thats when I heard

Being in 6th grade, I had no idea where precisely my mom worked in NYC. But I knew for a time it was in the WTC Plaza. I was terrified. Not only because it was my mom, but because of what life without her would mean (living full time with my dad).

We didn't hear anything until late that night, when my mom managed to escape to a friends apartment. She watched the planes hit from her office which thankfully was no longer in the WTC plaza. She made her way through Manhattan in the mire and the chaos. She was brave as fuck.

She called my dads house and the sense of relief was unimaginable. That some of my friends didn't have that same relief is horrible. I can't imagine the pain and suffering. I was lucky, and others weren't. In the days that followed games our friend group played outside changed.

More serious concerns suddenly existed. Who had died on our block? Whose parents hadn't been heard from yet? Were the terrorists planning another attack? I don't think the full scope of the trauma hit me until later. 9/11 was a horrific and unforgettable moment for all of us.