User blog comment:Azrael the Sorrowful/2819/@comment-3309886-20110911180243

I don't remember alot from that day as I was only 2 years old, but I do remember watching the first tower fall, my step-dad being reluctant to let me watch, afraid he would have to explain to me, even when he didn't know what was going on himself, and hearing my mom cry, saying that my aunt had been on Flight 11, the plane that crashed into the North Tower, and that she had died. After that, I don't remember anything else. It seemed like a dream, a horrible nightmare that no one could wake up from. It was as if the world stopped turning on that day.