I was 11 years old, in 6th grade, when everything happened. I remember that we got a phone call that morning and my mom started freaking out and calling my grandparents and all of her brothers and sisters trying to get a hold of my uncle Ron because nobody knew where he was. My mom did not want to deal with us so she sent us to school. I was in the 6th grade trailers at Suncrest Elementary and instead of the usual class my teacher turned on the TV, that's when we saw the news and I pieced together what was going on. The reason my Mom was freaking out was because my uncle Ron works in the Pentagon and where the plane hit was where his office was and nobody has heard from him. I don't remember doing anything in school that day because it was all taken up by what was going on.
We did not hear from my uncle Ron until about 10pm that night because he had to worry about his team before he could worry about himself and he had spent the day tracking them down. His office was hit by the aircraft but he was not inside because his office was being remodeled that day. It was supposed to be remodeled the week before but it was pushed back. That delay saved his life.
After September 11th I learned to appreciate my family a lot more because you never know when they will be gone.
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