September 11th, 2001 began like any other day. I was 4 years old and was so excited to go to school. I went to a small preschool in Colts Neck, NJ.

As usual, I was dropped off and I began to play with my friends.

The day went on and we did all of the things we normally did. We sang the ABC's, we made art, and we read books.

When the day was over, we went outside to meet our parents. A lot of the parents looked worried and rushed to pick up their kids. One of the moms was crying and gave her son a big hug. She had two other little boys with her.

A few years passed and my 3rd grade teacher started telling our class about what happened on September 11th, 2001. She told us that there is a group of people who are called Al Qaeda. They created a plan to crash four planes into some of the United States's most important buildings. Groups of men took over ordinary airplanes and crashed them into the twin towers and the pentagon. They even planned to hit another building, but they failed.

When I got home from school, I told my mom what I had learned. She told me all about what she remembered from September 11th, 2001. She reminded me of the mom who was crying that day. She said that she was crying because her husband was in one of the towers that was hit. She said that he died and that the woman and her three sons would never get to see him again.