Remembering

September 11th.

Not just a date.

An event.

A very very sad event.




I was getting ready to take the kids to preschool that morning. We turned on the TV, and saw New York. A tower. Some smoke. New York. So far away - another land. It didn't really register. I had lunches to make, diapers to change, and ponytails to put in curly hair. A few moments later the second tower was hit. What was going on?!? I took the kids to school, ran some errands, and heard the store clerks saying, "They've hit the pentagon." "There's another one down in Philadelphia." Now, this event had my attention. My full attention. Was our nation's capital next? Our president? I was an American. A safe American! A scared American. I wanted to go get my kids, but I resisted. Soon after that, came the quiet. We lived in the flight pattern just north of an international airport. There were always planes above and the noise that came with them. That day... and for many days after that... there was nothing. I sat outside on the step and looked up at the sky. Nothing. I thought of the people in New York. Unimaginable. I could not imagine what they must be feeling... if I was feeling so insecure thousands of miles away.