I was only in first grade. How was I supposed to know the meaning of tragedy?

If I didn’t know before, I certainly found out what tragedy means when I came home from my friend’s house that evening. We’d spent the whole afternoon playing make-believe; little, innocent- unknowing. No one had told us yet the horrible blow our country recieved just that morning.

I was doomed to find out the moment I walked in that door.

I came up the stairs, school bag in hand, greeting my family cheerfully as I skipped into the living room. There I found them: my mom, my dad, and my two older sisters, sitting together, staring at the television screen. I wondered what show they were watching.

I skipped to the couch and plopped down beside my mom, who hushed me, chattering incessantly. I dropped my backpack to the floor and stared.

Stared as I watched, again and again, the tragedy that changed our country forever. Stared as I witnessed real suffering for the first time in my life.

tragedy: n. 9-11