Like just about every other American, I've been thinking about where I was ten years ago, how I felt, what my reaction was, and how my life changed that day. When I focus on those questions, September 11th, 2001 seems like just yesterday. The details are still that clear to me, as I am sure they are to you.
My husband and I had been married for three months. I was commuting two hours away to work on my PhD at a school that was closer to my parents' house than our home. Because of that, I usually spent two nights a week with Momma and Daddy to save on gas. That morning I was in Suffolk with my mother and cousin, who was eight and with us for the day so Momma could help her with home school math. I was watching the news because I did not have class until the afternoon. I remember the exact chair in which I was sitting, how the sun was streaming through the window, the drink in my hand, with Diane Sawyer and Charlie Gibson on the television. I remember my shock when I actually saw the plane fly into the second tower as they were talking about the first.
I immediately tried to get through to my husband, but it took a little while. Once I finally reached him, I remember saying two things. "I think there may be more," and "I hope this isn't enough to make those towers fall." While we were on the phone, I learned that the Pentagon had been hit. I sat, glued to the TV, trying to learn anything and everything, as I watched first one, then the other tower crumble to the ground. My eyes welled up with tears, and it wasn't until some time later that I realized those tears were running down my face. I tried to imagine if this was how my grandparents felt on Pearl Harbor Day, but this time it was different - we had immediate access to news and all the images. Not more horrific or less devastating, just different.
The school I attended was located near Langley, and I spent several hours trying to find out about class, wondering about the safety of traveling near a military base. After the fourth phone call, I gave up and decided to stay home. I didn't really want to leave my family behind any way. That was a driving feeling that day . . . hold onto your loved ones as tightly as possible, because they could be gone in an unthinkable moment.
In the days that followed, I constantly either watched TV or listened to talk radio. That was a change in my life. While I also paid just enough attention to know what was going on in the world, now I felt compelled to understand everything. I no longer listened to music in the car but rather inundated myself with news and current events.
Other things changed, too. Everywhere you went, the terrorist attacks were all anyone spoke of. In the first few days, there was a question of a draft, and I told my husband that if he had to go to war, I wanted to be pregnant before he left. I couldn't imagine not having a part of him to hold onto.
Fast forward to April 2003, and I was in labor with our first child. Dave tried to put General Hospital on the TV in the labor and delivery room, and I quickly told him I wanted it on FOX. Operation Iraqi Freedom was underway, and I didn't want to miss a moment of it. About a week later, as I sat at home nursing my newborn daughter, I watched as Iraqis pulled Saddam's statue to the ground. It may have been small, but that was a victory in my eyes.
The world I have brought my children into is drastically different from the one in which I grew up. The days following September 11th showed that one thing had not changed, however. When the chips are down, Americans support one another. We prayed, donated blood, and helped our neighbors. That's the America I want my children to know. I have cried more today than I did ten years ago, possibly because I was still in shock back then. Through those tears, I've told my children about the sacrifice of nearly 3000 people, and that they can honor those fallen by living their lives through good works.
May God bless you, and God bless America.
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