I was in High School - don’t remember the exact grade. But I remember the morning very well.
We were on the West Coast. Dad was watching Fox News as usual before work, when the first news came in and reported that a plane hit the tower. At first, I wasn’t terrible concerned, because I read about an incedent similar where a small single person plane hit a tower, likely by accident.
When the second plane hit, that’s when things got real.
Dad worked at a Government installation so we started getting concerned about whether he should go to work or not. I remember getting into the shower to get ready for school, wondering very clearly just how many more planes would hit.
My brother, 7 at the time, woke up and we shoed him out of the family room since we didn’t want to traumatize him. I think that’s when the first tower fell - no one knew what was happening, and I remember pointing through a hole in the thick smoke and saying “It’s not there! It’s gone!”
About that time Mom woke up. We tried to gently tell her what was going on - she figured it out instantly and immediately began sobbing. So much for keeping my brother in the dark.
Dad eventually decided to go to work despite fears (I think he came home very early that day), and eventually me and my brother got to school. The rest of the day was kind of a daze.
The only other thing I really remember from the day (besides watching them begin to comb the wreckage) is something my mother told me later. Once or twice during the day, she heard planes in the sky - and freaked out because everything was supposed to be grounded. She later realized they were from the nearby military base. But every time she heard one that day, she was filled with fear.
Rest in peace ye brave heroes and victims. That day was seared into the American consciousness, a scar that may never fully heal.