I felt a strange mix of interest and humility when I realized that September 11th falls on a Thursday this year. Because it sets up today’s entry perfectly, but I feel strange to have positive emotions about 9/11.
I suppose that’s how I felt at age 10, the first and only time I was published in the newspaper, from a submission of my 9/11 story.
On September 11, 2001, I was 9 years old. That probably makes some of you feel ancient, but I know a lot of friends and fellow bloggers were also children on that day. You should probably know from all my Throwback Thursdays that I was an avid writer, even back then. In a couple years, I would also grow to be an avid journal-er. I liked writing down important events of my life as a method of record-keeping. Obviously, we never forgot 9/11, but perhaps I didn’t realize that at the time.
Rather than recounting my “where was I story” from my 22-year-old voice, I’ll let my 9-year-old self tell it instead. It is a little raw, and perhaps a little triggery, because 9-year-olds don’t filter much or have a full scope of understanding. They’re unreliable narrators. But I feel like its worth posting as-is because….well. It’s true.