Ten years. It's hard to believe, isn't it?
I'll always remember the morning, but some of the details have now faded.
Patrick must have heard first and turned on the television. I remember still being groggy. And then we witnessed the second tower being hit. I felt sick to my stomach. Once could have been an accident, but twice was clearly a premeditated act.
Dad, our country is under attack, I relayed over the phone. The incredulous words had left my mouth, and I wished there were some way to make them just a bad dream.
Today I'm reading Laura Bush's biography, seeing the events from her perspective... the fear that had hung in the White House air and the uncertain future she had faced as the President's wife. The victims' relatives she comforted and the anxious school children to whom she offered words of hope.
I'm glad our country is in another place now, but I do miss the sense of unity Americans felt during that brief period of history. Political parties and agendas didn't seem to matter. Tragedy seemed to draw us closer together, we hugged a little more tightly, and words of kindness came more freely. We were simply Americans.
So that is what I'm remembering today, along with stories of heroes and recollections of the fallen.
What do you remember?