Sunday, September 11, 2011
Every year on this day
From my desk at work I called my Mom and we cried on the phone. While we were talking an announcement came over the loudspeaker. It was determined that a plane with a bomb on it was flying over Cleveland airspace, just minutes away. The voice asked us to go home and be with our families. Were we going to be next? The fear was paralyzing.
I'll never forget leaving work that day. So much uncertainty. So much worry. I rode with my windows down in a daze to pick up my daughter. She was turning 6 months old that day. I hugged her tight and wondered what kind of world I had brought her into. Was this the beginning of the end?
Riding along the streets that day we saw an overwhelming show of support. Children were outside parading with flags. Adults were outside waving flags and shouting. People were angry, people were crying, and people were kneeling outside in their yards. Flags were fastened to nearly every vehicle. And that line outside the local bloodbank was unbelievably long and stretched for what seemed like miles. The show of emotion and support will be ingrained in my mind forever.
I wasn't sure what to do that day and I couldn't bear to watch the coverage so I did what I had planned to do that day. I took Olivia to her 6 month check up at the doctor's office. I had looked forward to that day for such a long time. If all was well I was going to be able to feed Olivia her first real food. Such a fun milestone in a child's life.
The doctor's visit went smoothly and I brought Olivia home. I was so happy and thankful to be safe with my family that I decided to celebrate. I hugged Olivia tight and dressed her up in her nicest dress, complete with a bonnet. I took a ton of pictures and made up some crazy and ridiculous songs about eating real food for the first time. Then she took her first few bites of real food, which coincidentally happened to be peas.
So, every year on this day I remember that awful feeling. The feeling of hopelessness and despair. The anger, the worry, and so much sadness. The innocent people who lost their lives. The sorrow felt by those who lost loved ones.
Then I count my blessings, put on my happy face, and tease my daughter that she's been eating real food for ten years now. She thinks it's silly, but I guess it's just my way of coping.
God Bless the USA!