I often think about events in my childhood that have changed my views on life. When I first witnessed the sight of death at the age of nine, I realized that people do not live forever and neither will I.

It was a beautiful day without a cloud in the sky. The sun was beating down on the face of the earth which made me feel like I was being baked. It was the day of the great family reunion which we had all been looking forward to since Christmas: the day when I would meet the relatives I didn't know, and would hang out with the ones I had grown up with. Every year we've had this gathering at my aunt's house up the road from where I live. There was always something to do at their house: riding horses, swimming in the pond or playing tennis.

As I ran up and down the hot tar on the tennis court, I happened to notice a small yellow plane flying high above our heads. It was the plane I wanted, but instead it belonged to my daredevil neighbor Phil. Phil was my favorite flyer. I often sat in the middle of my field and watched in amazement as the small yellow plane would take off high into the sky, and fly so close to the ground that the grass had to lay down to avoid it. Phil must have known that we were having a party. He absolutely loved to perform for an audience.

As the plane flew high into the sky like an eagle, I stood in the middle of the field and carefully watched his fascinating flying moves as I had done many times before. The thought of flying always intrigued me. I often hoped that someday I would get to go up in the plane and fly just like Phil.

Then reality flashed back into my head, and my eyes became focused on the plane again. It flew high into the sky and then pointed downward toward the ground, preparing for a nose-dive. It took off through the air when all of a sudden the small buzzing noise from the motor went silent. I followed the plane with my eyes as it headed toward the ground. I had never seen it this close to the ground before. I then mumbled, "Pull up, Phil! Pull up!" But the plane was no longer in sight. As I watched, I noticed a big stream of black smoke coming from the ground. I searched the crowd of relatives for my dad. I was very confused about what had just happened. As I turned, I saw my mom running toward me with tears in her eyes. She gave me a hug as I screamed out, "Mom, What's going on? Where's the plane?"

She hugged me tighter, and with a whimper, she replied, "Honey, it seems that the plane crashed, but I'm not sure. Your father drove down to see what happened."

"Mom, is Phil all right?"

"I don't know," she said with a sigh.

As I watched the thick black smoke covering the sky, I became afraid that the plane had crashed in our field. When my dad returned, I ran and jumped into his arms and began to question him about the accident. In a very shaken voice, he told me what had happened.

"When the plane was heading toward the ground, the engine stalled, which caused Phil to lose control and crash. It crashed further up the road from our house, but the plane is totally destroyed, and Phil is no longer alive."

As I heard those words, I began to realize that I would never see Phil again. At this point, pictures of Phil and his plane flashed through my head and I started to cry. Phil's death was the first death I ever experienced, and witnessing this accident will stay with me forever. That night as my family and I huddled around the television, the accident appeared on the news. We then found out that Phil was not the only person in the plane, his girlfriend was there too. Sadly we later learned that her daughter was a witness to this fatal plane crash, seven years ago. c