Ten years ago I was living in New York. Not New York City like most people think, but in a small town called Somers. I was about 45 minutes away from the city by train.

Ten years ago, I was in fourth grade. I remember Sept. 11, 2001, as if it just happened. My class was about to go to health, which was my favorite class back then. We were all about to head out when I heard my name on the intercom telling me my mom was there to pick me up. I was so confused.

So I gathered my stuff, a little peeved that I wouldn’t get to go to health. I walked out to the car and saw my mom in tears. I asked her what was going on, but I didn’t get a response.

We immediately went to pick up my brother at the middle school. After he got in the car my mom decided to give us a little information. Not enough to really give anything away though. I don’t remember her words exactly, but I remember the terror that was in her tone. It was enough to scare anyone.

We drove back to my house, where we met my dad. At that point, if I wasn’t freaked out enough already, I knew something had to be really wrong. My dad was never home during the day. My dad filled me and my brother in on what was happening as tears rolled down his face.

I didn’t quite understand why they were so upset. I knew that it was a huge deal; the tower had a plane in it, for God’s sake. But then they reminded me about my oldest brother. He worked in a building that was connected to the towers at the time. Which meant he had to go through them to get to his office.

I immediately understood why they were so scared. They had seen the first tower collapse, and not too long after I got home I watched the second tower fall. We watched the people run away, wondering if my brother was in the crowd, or if he was stuck inside.

I couldn’t comprehend the thought of losing my brother for a while. It was all shock. I just sat there with my parents holding me and my brother. My family sat and watched the news for a long time. The whole time I was watching, all I could think about was if I still had two brothers.

Hours after the incident we got a call from him. Thank God that he had to take his dry cleaning in that day. It probably saved his life.

It’s been 10 years since this all happened. I still think about it constantly. Every time I look at the clock and I see 9:11, these memories flood my mind.

It was a terrible time in my life, in others’ lives and for our nation. Sometimes I can’t believe that it’s already been 10 years, especially since I can recall the day so effortlessly.

Every Sept. 11, schools dedicate a moment of silence to those who were involved in the attacks. Every year, teachers ask students about their experiences with it. And every year, I hear the same stories.

I learned that students in Ohio knew about it as soon as it happened. In New York, we were clueless. I suppose it is better that those students didn’t know. A lot of their parents probably worked there.

After 10 years, I still hear the same stories about 9/11. I guess it’ll never really get easier. The only thing I do know is that 10 years from now, I’ll still be hearing the same stories.

And I’ll still be telling mine.