I still remember where I was when I saw the second plane crash into the Word Trade Center. I was in high school, maybe sophomore year. I was getting ready for school and mom was in the living room consumed by the television, the news. When I made my way into the livingroom as well, that second plane had crashed into the building. I was in disbelief from what I had witnessed. But despite the horrific acts that took place that morning, I was still ushered to school. The teachers all aware as well, were given explicit instructions not to talk to us about — that’s LAUSD for you. We had questions, we wanted answer, we had concerns, but more than anything we wanted to know what was going on out there.

We would later learned that nearly 3,000 people died as a result of those terrorists attack. The country united momentarily under a banner patriotism and heartache. And although it’s been 18 years since husbands lost wives, wives lost husbands, parents lost their adult children, coworkers lost their colleagues and friends lost one another, that day is etched in our history. In many of our memories.

It’s a day we should never forget. Not because of the horrible attacks we endured but because of the lives that ended that day.

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