I decided to write to you about the events of September 11, terrorist attacks that moved the whole world and changed America forever.
             I remember when the whole thing took place I was just a teenager, I was 15 years old, sitting in my math class, studying linear equations, when one of the teachers came in and told us to put the television on news channel. As I watched the plane crushing into one of the World Trade Center's towers I was horrified. In the beginning everybody believed that it was a terrible accident, but when the second plane crushed into the second Twin Tower everybody knew it was a planned terrorist attack. I remember my mom picking me up from school, and when I told her what happened she didn't believe me, I started crying because I thought that we were all going to die, that there was going to be a World War III. I was horrified that any other human on this earth would consciously commit such monstrous acts. How could another human hate so powerfully, that this would be the result?
             I watched those events as a granddaughter. Part of me was glad my grandfather died in May, so that he didn't have to be here to witness what has happened to the country he loved, and the country he himself served during the Second World War. But more than that I wished I could call him, seek his wisdom, and have him tell me things will be all right even if it wasn't true.
             I saw in my mind the picture of those dedicated men, as they trudged up the stairs of a burning and unstable building because there were people in there that needed their help. I imagined their screams of terror as the building crumbled beneath them, and I felt the horror and pain in the hearts of people watching that could hear the screams and yet do nothing. As a firefighter's niece, I felt sad for the
             families who's loved ones died doing their jobs, and that will never come home from work.
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