I was excited for my birthday because my parents and I were going to California. It was the first time since I could remember that my dad was going to be with me on my birthday. I remember waking up in the morning and my parents were watching the television in horror. They looked at me and tried to explain to me what was happening. They explained a terrorist attacked happened in New York, causing two planes to crash into the Twin Towers. My mom had tears in her eyes and I started crying because I didn't know what was happening or how I was supposed to feel. I realized this day, the one day of the year things would normally be about me, was not special anymore. No one remembered it was my birthday, during my "golden year" at school. I went home and had dinner which was peanut butter sandwiches because no restaurants were open. There wasn't anything good to watch on television because every channel was airing information on the terrorist attack. My dad said he was needed in New York for work and I was terrified something would happen to him on his flight. I was ambivalent to my existence in those days. Everything I thought I knew and understood, I realized I did not. I was forced to grow up and lost my childhood innocence. My dad was okay and he eventually came home. He was and still is my hero. The pandemic since 2019 reminds me of those days when I was 11. I am 31 now. That was 20 years ago. I wonder if my ambivalence in my life, currently, is related to those days when I was 11.