9/11/11

Today is the 10th anniversary of 9/11.
It is a day to remember.
I was always amazed when my parents said they could remember exactly where they were, and what they were doing when Kennedy was shot.
But now I understand.
Because I remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing when I heard.
My alarm woke me up, and instead of peppy music, it was the shocked voice of the radio DJ announcing that something terrible had happened in New York. And then Washington.
It was the first time in my life that my safe little bubble of a world was rocked.
I was an entire continent away from the devastation, but I felt like it was right outside my living room window.

I sat and watched the news for days.
I watched the planes hit.
I watched the buildings crumble.
I watched people scream and run.
I watched people jump out.
I watched the list of missing persons grow, and grow, and grow.
And I cried.

A few months later, when it was announced that we would go to war to fight back against the evil, I remember feeling very, very afraid.
For the first time, my friends, who had signed up for the Marines, the Army, or the Coast Guard for the great money, were faced with the fact that they might have to go and sacrifice their lives for the country.
And some of them did.
And some of them came home, broken, missing parts of themselves, or their friends, their dreams filled with nightmares.

And I admit, I don't think about it that often.
I surely don't think about it as much as parents, spouses and children who lost someone on that day.
Or parents, spouses or children who wait every night to hear from the soldier that they have prayed for all day.

But today, I will think about it.
I will pray.
I will think about heaven and perfect peace.
And I will hug my little ones extra long.
And hold hands with my husband because I can.
Because today is a day to remember.