September 11, 2001: It was a beautiful Tuesday morning, a few days after the first day of second grade. My mother had gotten me dressed and ready for school, and when she dropped me off, she said "See you later, sweetie!" A clear, sunny morning with no clouds in sight, most would think of it as a typical day in Brooklyn. But little did we all know that September 11th would be a day that was etched in our memories forever.

My elementary school's principal had decided that they wouldn't tell us, probably because we wouldn't necessarily understand it at such a young age. It wasn't until my uncle came and got me from school instead of my mom. At first I was happy, but a little confused since I was expecting my mom. As we drove back to my apartment, he began to explain to me what happened. The radio in the background was set to 1010 WINS, and all they were talking about was the plane hitting The World Trade Center. Being only seven years old at the time, I didn't really process what happened right away. Or not at least until I got home, and saw my grandmother watching the news in her bedroom.

It was then that I realized and remembered that my dad not only worked at The World Trade, but the fact that he worked in Tower One. Plus the fact that my mother also worked in Manhattan, but further in Midtown. I very vaguely remember days where my dad would me to work with him, and going up the elevator to his office. As the towers were 100+ floors, there were floors where you had to catch other elevators to get further up in the building. My dad worked on the 54th floor of Tower 1 at a firm called Brown & Wood, LLP (today, it's known as Sidley Austin) . I picked up the phone, and called my dad's house phone. No answer. I started to worry, but my grandma assured me that she had talked to him, and that he was fine. Though I trusted my grandma's word, I still wanted to hear his voice for myself so that I knew he was okay. Minutes seemed like hours, from relatives calling from overseas making sure that we're okay, to neighbors knocking on our door to make sure my parents were alright, it was almost as if everything went in slow motion. As the early evening hours rolled in, I decided to call my dad again and still, no answer. My mom called, and told us that she was okay, but she was stuck at her job because they weren't letting anybody go south of 34th Street. So she didn't know if whether or not she'd be staying overnight at her job.

It had gotten late, and my mom didn't get home until about 10 o'clock. With most of the trains not running into Brooklyn, she had to walk most of the way home from Manhattan. By this point, I had called my dad one more time, and still didn't get him on the phone. Running into my grandma's arms crying, hoping that my dad would call back and just hear his voice. My mom let me stay up late that night, and we happened to catch NBC Nightly News at 11. Tom Brokaw appeared on the television screen re-capping what happened in New York, Washington D.C., and Pennsylvania. People were telling their stories about where they were and how they got out of the towers. Low and behold, they said they had someone on the line, that person ended up being my father, Robert Knowles.

The city was covered in smoke and haze, and the smell lingered for days. Everyone was in a daze, making sure they heard from their loved ones, or trying to make sure they've been found in what was left of the most beautiful buildings many had ever seen. The days had followed and I finally got to see my dad after everything that happened. I just ran to him and hugged him as tight I ever could, and he did the same. Though after that fateful day, he was never the same. My dad developed PTSD and became claustrophobic, and was never able to get a full night's rest due to the flashbacks he would have. He was also later diagnosed with renal failure, and had to undergo dialysis treatments following 9/11 for six years until getting a kidney transplant in 2008.

It was a scary time to be in New York City, with the future looking unclear and the residents divided between panic and anger. The one thing that did start to show, was unity. Everyone in my neighborhood made sure to check in on each other, traveling in groups to and from work or school, even carpooling each other. No one knew what was going to happen next, but the point was we were all able make it through such a horrific tragedy.

Fast forward to 2016, and of course a lot has changed in 15 years. My dad passed away back in 2009 from kidney complications, and the new World Trade Center building has opened. The original site, now known as Ground Zero, and has become a place where people can pay their respects to the lives lost, or never found as a result of 9/11. In 2011, NBC's Dateline did a 10-year anniversary episode, which featured my dad's interview clip as part of their 'powerful stories.' This was always something that I had difficulty talking about, because I'd get so emotional talking about it. But my dad's story is something to be told, along with the many other survivors who were able to tell their tales. September 11th is a day that will live on forever, in fact this academic year will be the first that this event is taught to children who were either born after or too young to remember it. Can you believe it? Fifteen years already, and New York was still able to pull through despite the after effects. Even though there was a smoke filled haze, it cleared and there saw a light, which helped us all cope with that significant date, 9/11/2001.