Hello, my name is Hope. I was born on September 11th 1993 at 9:59 am. I had a mother and a father. Five years ago in 2001, my life changed forever. Little did I know, the dates and times would make the biggest difference in my life.
My mother was a lawyer working on the 85th floor of the South Trade Center at Harris Beach Law Firm. I remember when I was 5, right before I was diagnosed, my mom took me up to 110th floor of the Observation Deck. We were up sooooo high. I felt like a superhero, flying in the cool breeze, not afraid of anything, except for my kryptonite, which were things not in place. My father was an architect before we moved to New York. He would always help me construct buildings, made out of Legos of course. I remember my 8th birthday, down to the microsecond. It all started at 7:40 a.m.
“SURPRISE, HAPPY 8th BIRTHDAY HOPE!!!!!!!!” my mother said excitingly. After she gave me a kiss and a hug, her calmness turned into rush. “There is one 3oz chocolate pancake, 3 big strawberries, with 3 tsp. of sugar, and using 3 apples, there is freshly squeezed apple juice. I love you, and I need to get to work. See you tonight.”
“Bye mom.”
She then gave me a hug and a kiss and walked over to her stuff, which included dad.
“Honey, I love you. Do not forget Hope has school at 9:03a.m today, and make sure she sticks to her routine.”
“Yes, honey, love ya, get to work.”
You may be wondering why I start school at a weird time. Well, I go to a special school because I am a high functioning autistic.
“You know the routine. Eat, get tidied up, dress, make your bed, and straighten up your room. After you are done I have a surprise for you.”
“Ok dad, but won’t I be late for school?”
“No, you will not. School does not start until 9:03 today.”
“Mk dad. Love you.”
“Love you too bunny, now go forth in peace and prosper.”
I hurried up and ate the delicious pancakes, with the mushy strawberries, and the tarty sweet apple drink. I then took my medication and moved on to the bathroom. I had my ginger red hair in braids so that it would be nice and curly today, which it was. I washed my face to make sure that my freckles were not dirty, and then went to my room when I was done. I put on my uniform shirt, with my black skirt, and started to accessorize it. I had on opaque tights, navy converse, and my red bowtie and suspenders. I made sure everything was in place and made my way down to the kitchen. Along with my autism, came the OCD tendencies. I had to have my meals set out in 3 parts; I sometimes repeat a word 3 times, and etc. Also everything needs to be the way I need it to be in. That is just the way I roll. I start to wonder where dad was.

“Daddy, where are you?” I yelled.
“In the playroom, Hope. Could you come in here?”
“Sure, I’ll be there in a sec.”
I ran down the hallway, turned to the right and opened the door. I saw dad sitting at what we called the “Knights of the Round Table” table with a TARDIS Blue wrapped gift.
“Here you go honey. Mom wanted you to have this before you went to school.”
I took it from my dad and diligently opened it.
“A SONIC SCREWDRIVER PEN. THANK YOU DAD, THANK YOU MOM, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.”
“You’re welcome sweetheart. Get your shoes on. We are going on a field trip,” he announced.
“Where, Where, Where?” I begged.
“You will see soon.”
We both got our shoes on and made sure everything was where it was supposed to be, then we closed the door to the apartment.
“Do not forget to lock it.”
“Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot. It is a good thing I have a daughter like you.”
I giggled and then started to skip down the hallway to the elevators. I pressed the button and started to recite the Fibonacci sequence.
“1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144.”
I stopped when the elevator arrived, then I entered it. Dad and I took the elevator because we lived on the 5th floor of our apartment complex.
“Dad, did you know that Sarah Winchester had her elevators illegally installed?”
“No, honeybee I did not.”
“…or that The Winchester Mystery House is listed as a place for San Jose residents to go in case of an emergency, like an earthquake?”

“Honey, as much as I love hearing your random facts, you need to york on self-control.”

“Dad, you mean work, not york right?”
We started to laugh, but then I started to hit myself. My dad intervened.
“HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY. STOP IT HOPE. STOP IT RIGHT NOW.”
My father then took notice of his volume, and calmed down.
“I’m sorry Hope, but you know better than that.”
“I know but I cannot control it.”
“I know it is hard, but you have to work on it.”
“Yes dad.”
“Cheer up baby, it is your birthday.”
“You are rig-” Then the elevator binged. I said robotically with the elevator, “Lobby Floor.” I then proceeded to continue my earlier sentence. “Right daddy.”
It was 8:14 a.m. by the time we exited the complex. We walked onto the busy New York sidewalk. Well, it actually was not busy. I looked over to my right, and saw my school.
“There are 5,001 public schools in New York City.”
“Baby tell me again, how you know all this again?”
“I read a lot of books, read things online, in the newspaper, etc.”
“Alright then, off to the store in T minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 54321,” and off we went.
We walked for 5 blocks when suddenly dad picked me up and put me on top of his shoulders.
“Weee. I’m so tall. Thanks daddy.”
“Anytime kiddo.”
We walked for another 7 blocks and ended up at Sammie’s Science World. The owner Rory, named the shop for his son Sammie, who sadly had passed away a few months ago from leukemia. I remember all the fun times we used to have. Pretending we were scientists, making the coolest of experiments. We entered the store, then suddenly something popped out.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOPE!!!!”
I started to rock back and forth, trying to prevent an episode.
“I am so sorry Hope.” Rory said worryingly, “I did not mean to scare you.”
I came to and replied,
“It is okay Rory. How are you today?”
“Still coping. Here, Hope.”
He handed me a frame wrapped in purple and blue stars.
“Sammie made this for you, shortly before he...... passed on.”
Rory then sheds a tear. I finally spoke up and said,
“That was sweet of him.”
I slowly opened the gift and saw what it was. It was his interpretation of The Starry Night, by Vincent Van Gogh. He is one of my favorite artists, and this was my favorite painting that he did.
“Anyway, what brings you to this neck of the woods? Why are you not in school?”
“Not yet. For some strange reason school starts at 9:03 today.”
“Okay,” He said.
My dad finally told me why we came here.
“Hope, you can pick out any 2 reasonably priced items.”
“Really dad?’’
“Yep, it is your birthday.”
I started to go down each aisle, taking stock of everything. I came back to the counter with my 2 items. A TARDIS nightlight and a periodic table shower curtain.
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes dad, this is what I really, really, really, want.”
“Okay. How much Rory?”
“Because it is Hope’s birthday, no charge.”
“Really? Thanks Rory.”
We walked out of the store. It was 8:42. It was about 8:46 when the Twin Towers came into our view. I gazed in awe until suddenly I asked,
“Why is that plane so low dada?
He replied,
“I do not know, it is weird.”
“Well maybe---,”
BOOM BOOM BOOM. A fireball appeared in the air. Even though I was 3 blocks away, the heat was immense. Glass was breaking, and shattering onto the street. Paper flew through the air and it looked like a parade. SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH. Liquid hit the sidewalk. When I saw what it was it surprised me. It was jet fuel.
“DADDY DADDY DADDY,” I had my hands around my ears. I started to cry. “IT WAS A PLANE, IT WAS A PLANE, IT WAS A PLANE. MOMMIE MOMMIE MOMMIE.”
Daddy carried me around his waist and he ran the remaining 4 blocks home. By the time we got in the elevator I ran over to the corner, and had my hands covering my ears and I was violently rocking. I was also whimpering, trying to hold back my screams. I heard the elevator bing, and with a tone of fear and worry in my voice, I said,
“Fifth floor.”
I got up and ran to the apartment. Dad hurried and unlocked the door. I ran to the guest room and slammed the door. My parents told me,
“If you ever feel a tantrum coming on, go to the guest room. It is the safest place. There is nothing in there that you could hurt yourself with.”
I went to the closet, huddled in the corner, got the scarf I left in there and screamed. I stayed in there until about 9:02. I heard dad, talking to mom, and suddenly heard yelling.
“HONEY GET DOWN A PLANE---“
It was 9:03.
“GODDAMIT!”
“Daddy said a bad word, that’s a dollar in the swear jar.”
“Sorry honey I didn’t mean for you to hear that. It’s just, LOOK AT THE TV.”
Horror filled the screen. I was in silence. It was just shocking. After I saw that I ran to my room and started to cry. You know that feeling you get when something bad has happened to someone you love and are really close to? Well, my mother and I shared that. I did not have that feeling when the tower was hit. I didn’t leave my room until 9:57. I went to the TV room and saw the horror on the screen. The time, 9:59 am. My world was dead now. BOOM BOOM BOOM. I watched the tower fall. At that moment, I felt my mom leaving as the towers fell. I quietly sang to myself the happy birthday song.
“Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, my mother is dead, and my world I shattered. I hate my birthday, I hate my birthday, It was the worst day of my life, I hate my birthday.”
We saw the dust cloud bombard the streets. It looked as if a volcano erupted. The same happened when the other tower fell.
My father and I were never that same after that day. My birthday was never the same. We did not celebrate my birthday that year. The gifts from that day were my Christmas presents. My mother died the same time I was born, so I highly doubt I will ever have a Happy Birthday again. I became mute. I would not talk at all, not in any language. I isolated myself, had violent tantrums, and even got 51/50 by the state. I even got dismissed from school. They said when I was stable, I could go back. My father and I moved from New York to San Diego. After a year, I slowly began to return back to my “normal” state of mind. My father never remarried. This year, in 2006, we finally celebrated my birthday. Dad and I made a deal, saying we would never fly unless it is absolutely necessary. It took us 5 days to get to New York by train but it was worth it.
I said in the beginning the numbers had significance. I was reading a book, on the train to New York, and finally found out how it all made sense.
7:40- All hijackers are boarded on Flight 11
8:14-Flight 11 is hijacked
8:42-Flight 175 is hijacked
8:46- Flight 11 crashed into WTC 1
9:03-Flight 175 crashed into WTC 2
September 11th 2001- The day that changed America
85th- The last floor in the impact zone on WTC 2
1993- The year of the WTC bombing
8- The number of years between the WTC bombing and 9/11 Attack

I will never forget that day. No one ever will. On 9/08 we finally visited mom, 2 years after that fateful day. Dad went first. It was hard. I have never seen dad cry since that day. I was exploring the graveyard, when dad finally comes up to me and told me it was my turn. I went over and put flowers in the vase.
“Mom, I can’t really tell you what I want to say. I still haven’t accepted it. You know, the fact you are gone. I did however, write you a letter of what I wanted to say to you. I don’t have the courage in me to read it out loud, but I know that one day I will. I miss you mom.” Tears started to fall down. As I walked away, I silently whispered, “I love you mom.”
I still have not read that letter out loud, but this is what it says.


Mom,
I don’t know if you can hear me, but this your daughter. I miss you mom, so much it hurts. It’s so hard, waking up every day, not having you here. Ever since that day, I’ve gotten worse. I went mute for a year and a half, my tantrums got worse, and I had to be hospitalized for not eating or hitting myself too hard. My friends don’t talk to me anymore, I can’t go to school. WHY MOM? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE? WHY? I feel like I have no support. I struggle just to wake up every day. I miss your smile, the way it lit up the room. I miss your hugs, and your jokes, even your nagging. I also miss the way you read to me every night, or the way you comforted me. I don’t know if I will ever accept you being gone. I’m broken, and I don’t know if I can get back up. I need you mom. I love you so much. Why mom, why? Why couldn’t you hold on, for me or dad? Why did you let go? You had so much to live for. God mom, sometimes I hate you for that. I’m so confused. It’s not your fault. I love you mom, and I know that one day we will be a family, united once again. I love you soooooo much Mom. Please come back.
Your daughter,
Hope

I remember how many tear marks that paper had. 365. One for every day. I walked over to dad, got in the cab, and buried my head in his chest. He comforted me and said,
“It will be okay, Hope.”
I just said nothing. We got out at Grand Central Park, and walked for 2 minutes. We got into a horse-drawn carriage and went off. It was sunset. The cool autumn breeze blew, causing my hair to get in my face. Dad moved my hair out of my face and said, with a tear in his eye,
“I may have lost Faith, but I will always have Hope, by my side.”
“As corny as that sounds it is true. It is so true.” I quietly whispered,
“I miss you mom.”
I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall, and held on to my father. A little while later my dad whispered again,
“Hope is always by my side.”