I started first grade the August of 2001. At the time, I was going to school in Des Moines, Iowa. I was new to the city and new to the school. My family had just moved there because my father was stationed relatively near there. Just as my parents were making new friends, I was as well. It was a strange experience. Being six, having to leave everybody I knew. I was a very sad, lonely 6-year-old. Moving is a very traumatic experience for a 6-year-old. Going from everyday play dates with your best friends that live down the street to moving an entire state away and seeing them never? Quite the difference.

One month after starting a new school, my family found their groove. I had made friends, my parents found other parents to hang out with, and everything was getting along. This I understood. This I could see.

It was a weird day at school. The day America knows all too well. There were a lot of announcements over the intercom. The teachers were talking very quietly to each other in the hallways. Even a couple of kids were pulled out of class and sent home in tears. Not that wasn’t unusual for 6-year-olds, just another observation on an overall strange day.

One night, we were casually hanging out with our new friends over dinner. After dinner, all of the parents were huddled around the television watching the news, waiting for the President to talk to the whole country.

Like I said, it was a weird day, but not just for me or my friends or my parents of my friend’s parents.

It was a weird day for the whole country.

On that day, millions of people woke up, had their morning coffee, said their I love you’s and goodbye’s and went off to work.

And on that day, it would be the last I love you’s and goodbye’s for thousands of people. And they just didn’t know it.

On September 11^th, 2001, thousands of people went to work at the World Trade Center early that morning.

I didn’t understand it at the time, how could any 6-year-old? It was such a horrible and malicious concept to understand, most of the nation couldn’t believe it.

Fifteen years later, 15 years wiser, we understand more than ever. I realize that I didn’t have it so bad as a 6-year-old. And I realize that the attacks on that fateful day has shaped my entire life. Many people will argue with me that I am a millennial, and to an extent, I am. But I am also a part of America’s youngest, newest generation that is Generation 9/11.

9/11 has shaped my life more than anything in the first 6 years of my life just like WWII and the 1969 shuttle launch to the moon. Those are events that shaped the history of the world and the people in it.

In light of more recent events, it is becoming more and more apparent to me that 9/11 held the same lesson then as it does now: life can change in seconds.

“Yeah, Trey. Tell me something I don’t know.”

I say this, not because I don’t think you don’t know, but because we all need to be reminded.

C-4 explodes at 8,050 meters per second. A bullet travels at 1,700 miles per hour. Both happening faster than the human mind can comprehend. Before you know it, your life could be over.

Don’t forget your I love you’s and your goodbye’s, folks.