I was seven years old when I watched a plane crash into the Pentagon. My mom had an interview at the Pentagon that day and I was outside with her boyfriend at the time waiting for her. It was a miracle that she was being interviewed away from the area the plane struck. At first, I was unsure what I was seeing, then it really processed what I had just witnessed. I was too young to really register that this was a terrorist attack and would likely be one of the most infamous for the rest of my life. I remember seeing military uniforms all over with guns and weapons. They were yelling at everyone and so many people screamed and cried. I waited for what felt like an eternity for my mom to come find me. She came to me hysterical in tears and grabbed me and held on to me for dear life as we ran to get away from there.
On the drive to try and get to my aunt’s house where we were staying, she sobbed and sobbed as we listened to the news. When I heard that planes had struck the World Trade Center, my heart sank.
I lived in Manhattan and could see the towers from school every day, not realizing that meant I could not go home and when I finally did make it home nothing would be the same.
Psychologically? I do suffer from PTSD wishing I could completely erase this portion of my memory. 21 years later and pieces of this are still engrained in my mind. This event put a hatred and resentment in my heart towards those who are from that area or even look like they might be. So, racism was put on me unknowingly by this event and it was not until adulthood that I started to fix the err in my ways.
-Davide Bolis
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