You know how I can tell I was raised in a cruel world? I thought the attacks on the world trade center buildings were normal. I vividly remember saying to myself, "Why would we get out of school for that? This happens all the time". I actually gave a classmate a high-five as we climbed onto the school bus. I could see the sense of fear in every adult's eyes, but didn't take into consideration why they were scared. This was life, they should be used to it by now.

It wasn't until I walked in the door to my house and saw my mother with her hand cupped over her mouth that I understood the severity of the situation. There were tears sliding down her cheeks. It doesn't take much to make her cry, but I always felt the same when she did. I felt like I'd let her down, whether I was the cause of the tears or not. I knew it was serious when I saw my mother crying over the deaths of all these strangers. She had always been cynical, learned not to expect the best from people. She would just let karma sort everyone out. I cried with her.