I was 17 and in foster care. That morning I had just gotten my foster sisters off to school, my foster mother was sitting in the living room and called me over just after the first plane hit, I watched the second hit. I'll never forget how alone I felt that day. I had only been in that foster home a few weeks.

I was working at Walgreens, I went to work at 10am completely out of it, watched lines around the block of people getting gas. Our shelves were emptied of all the first aid supplies. My boss wouldnt let us watch the news, or listen to the radio. I know he was just trying to keep us calm, but I'll never quite be able to forgive it. I was terrified because I grew up as a military brat, I knew what this would mean for my friends and family.


I just wanted my Daddy. Every year that loneliness hits me like a ton of bricks and I cant quite stop the tears.