I was in fifth grade in a town in NJ on the Bergen County line. From most of the hills you could see downtown Manhattan, mostly the WTC. Earlier my brother turned eight and we went to the observation deck, something long promised but always postponed because it would always be there.
I remember reading about the death of Massoud, but that was a memory from the day before. The next day we all knew where Afghanistan was.
That day school ended and parents had to come pick us up since they didn't want anyone walking back to an empty house and learning daddy wasn't going to make it back that night.
The next month my brother had funeral after funeral of his friends parents to attend. The towers were like a missing tooth, a gap you knew wasn't always there.
I remember reading about the death of Massoud, but that was a memory from the day before. The next day we all knew where Afghanistan was.
That day school ended and parents had to come pick us up since they didn't want anyone walking back to an empty house and learning daddy wasn't going to make it back that night.
The next month my brother had funeral after funeral of his friends parents to attend. The towers were like a missing tooth, a gap you knew wasn't always there.