today is the fifth anniversary of 9/11.

I wasn't even 13 yet, that day, but it's a day I'll never forget.

I remember sitting in the car half-listening to the radio talking about a plane crashing into a tower in new york. I didn't really give it much thought, but I remember thinking, they must be joking, as I got out of the car and walked onto my school's campus. As I was walking, my friend approached me, talking a mile a minute about the attack, expressing his fear about an attack in L.A. and informing me that Disneyland had shut itself down. All I remember thinking was, "Oh my God, are you serious?"

It was pretty grim during my first period P.E. class, but when it came time to say the pledge of allegience, I'm pretty sure we spoke loud and clear.

I remember that my principal made an announcement that day, reassuring us that we were safe at our school. I remember walking in to my history class and the entire class wanted to watch the news. My teacher told us that the principal had told all teachers not to allow the students to watch the news, but he turned it on anyways, claiming that we had a right to watch our history in the making. During lunch, few of us wanted to leave the classroom and we stared at the image of the burning towers, watching the footage of the planes crashing into the building, hearing about Flight 93 and about the firemen and policemen who were rushing into the building trying to save lives, all while risking their own.

I remember going home that day. My stepbrother, who is in the military, had been working at the pentagon for the past few months. We were all worried for him, and relieved when we received a call from him informing us that he was safe.

That day, I shed tears for the thousands of people I did not know.
Today, I shed tears for the thousands of people I will never know.

All the people who died that day, all the people who risked their lives, all the people who suffer still as a result of that day, whether it be emotionally or physically, I cry for them.

All that I will ever need to know about them in order to love them is that they were someone's son, daughter, mother, father, friend, spouse, sister, or brother, and that they were Americans.

I was young then, and five years later, I still am young, but I'll never be too young to understand that I love them all.