It's That Day Again.

I've never written a post for my blog and then set it to publish the next day so I hope I do this right.

I'm sure there will be several people who blog about what today is. I am no exception. I guess every generation has that defining moment. That day or event(s) that they will never forget. Even if like me I'm sure, they will end up not even remembering their own name. For my grandparents, it was a world war. For my parents, it was JFK and/or Vietnam. For me, it was September 11th, 2001.

I did not know anyone who died that day, but I don't think it mattered. My daughter had been born just shy of 2 months before. I was having my very first "sleep in" day since she'd been born. The hubby had gotten up early with both kids and was letting me have my time. I remember him coming in the bedroom with a look of puzzlement on his face. He said, "The World Trade Center is on fire. It looks pretty bad too." "Really?" I said. I got up, I was really wanting to stay in the bed, but the look on his face... So I went to the living room and had myself a seat. I hadn't been sitting there 5 minutes when the second plane hit. Right there in front of my face on live TV. I can remember all the confusion. Was this an accident? Was this a terrorist attack? No one knew for sure at first. Then the plane hit the Pentagon and one crashed in Pennsylvania. Then, there was no doubt.

I looked down in my lap at my 2 month old baby. That's the day I had my very first anxiety attack. I'd imagine that everyone had some sort of anxiety attack that day. Somehow I composed myself. After all day of watching ABC News, I got myself together and went to work. Because Wal-Mart doesn't close for anything. I distinctly remember driving down the highway and pointedly noticing not a single plane in the sky. No trails of even where a plane had been. I wondered if I ever would again. I realized that the life I had would not be the life my children have.

It's been 7 years. Seven years and we still haven't found the man who planned that whole thing. He's still hiding out in some cave somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Or, as I figure it, he's living in New York City since no one is looking for him there or he's somewhere like Fiji, enjoying all the pina coladas he can stand. Of course, in all these years we've occupied a country (not related to the terrorist attacks of 9/11), gotten thousands of U. S. soldiers killed and injured, not to mention all the Iraqi civilians who have already endured more than their fair share of domestic terrorism, found Saddam Hussein and promptly hung his ass, now we are still wondering why the Iraqi government is still struggling. Well....duh. "We" went in guns a blazing, found and removed their "leader" and then said, "TA DA! Now it's your country. Good luck with that." I mean can you blame some of those people from being irritated? But I digress. The point is that it's been 7 years and we still are just as vulnerable as we were then. Every September 11th, for me, is just like reliving it every year.


  1. I remember the day JFK was shot, my mother dropping the dust mop, saying, "Oh my God!". I remember the first time I saw an American soldier put a gun to a Viet Cong's head and pull the trigger on the evening news. I was only seven years old, terrified, and didn't know why these things had happened. I felt exactly the same way on 9-11, and I am a grown woman. Since these events, we have discovered "why", and the terror only deepens.

  2. I was siting on the edge of my grandparents bed and I too was watching when the second plane hit. I remember just sitting my bowl down and going completely numb. I looked at Memphis and had those same panicked thoughts about the world he was about to grow up in.
    It is something I will remember forever too.