How could I forget? I was in Brazil 11 years ago, serving a mission. My companion and I had just arrived at our bishop's house for lunch. My bishop said, pointing to his tiny television, "look what's happening in your country!" We saw the second plane hit the towers, and whatever lunch I could choke down tasted like sawdust.
The rest of that day we caught whatever snippets of news we could at each home we visited, and we were approached by strangers on the street offering solidarity and kindness. Upon arriving in our apartment that night, fears for family and of war became too much and I cried and prayed for God to be with my family, our leaders, and all of those in pain.
The American Embassy was closed for several days, and we were required to report in each night to assure the mission president that we were ok. As the time wore on, it became old news to those around me, but I never forgot.