9-11
I was running a little late getting the boy to school, and I was still moving slow from the C-section. The Other Half was out of the house by 7:15 and I didn’t have the T.V. on, so I was unaware of anything until after I dropped my son off and was on the way home. Flipping through the radio stations, I heard a news reporter, and the first thing I noticed was the real emotion in his voice, it made me listen.
It made me hear that a plane had just crashed into a building in New York. Still on maternity leave, I was back at home to see the T.V. coverage, reporters near tears, devastating carnage and pain as the towers fell and crushed a nation. I was filled with horror, and grief and a deep rage that anyone would dare do this to us. I cuddled my baby girl and cried for all the pain and sorrow in the world that beautiful morning. My husband called, furious, filled with the urge to do something, anything, frustrated that he was powerless to strike back in the face of this affront to our country.
I watched the towers fall, and people die, and live, heard of the plane that crashed in that empty field. I grieved for those that died there, but rejoiced that there were people that took action, refused to give in and died for the lives of strangers.
I saw a plane crash into the Pentagon, and the grief and fury grew. I watched heroes rise and fall, ordinary men and women doing what needed to be done, with the strength of their pride in this country and love of life bearing them through the pain and fear of that dark day.
I watched the sun set over the rubble of two buildings, battered and burning, hunched over the crumpled bodies of people who never saw the hate and insanity flying out of the blue skies that day.
And the Flag flew, and Freedom did not die.
The pain and the rage are cushioned by time, but the empty places in so many lives will never be filled. For all the children who lost fathers and mothers, for all those who lost sisters, brothers, friends, for the brave men and women who gave their lives that day We Must Never Forget.
It made me hear that a plane had just crashed into a building in New York. Still on maternity leave, I was back at home to see the T.V. coverage, reporters near tears, devastating carnage and pain as the towers fell and crushed a nation. I was filled with horror, and grief and a deep rage that anyone would dare do this to us. I cuddled my baby girl and cried for all the pain and sorrow in the world that beautiful morning. My husband called, furious, filled with the urge to do something, anything, frustrated that he was powerless to strike back in the face of this affront to our country.
I watched the towers fall, and people die, and live, heard of the plane that crashed in that empty field. I grieved for those that died there, but rejoiced that there were people that took action, refused to give in and died for the lives of strangers.
I saw a plane crash into the Pentagon, and the grief and fury grew. I watched heroes rise and fall, ordinary men and women doing what needed to be done, with the strength of their pride in this country and love of life bearing them through the pain and fear of that dark day.
I watched the sun set over the rubble of two buildings, battered and burning, hunched over the crumpled bodies of people who never saw the hate and insanity flying out of the blue skies that day.
And the Flag flew, and Freedom did not die.
The pain and the rage are cushioned by time, but the empty places in so many lives will never be filled. For all the children who lost fathers and mothers, for all those who lost sisters, brothers, friends, for the brave men and women who gave their lives that day We Must Never Forget.
posted by a-fire-fly at 7:52 AM
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