It seems like a lifetime ago that we saw hundreds of people running in fear in New York City, but tonight people are running in happiness toward the White House. I am watching CNN and trying not to cry.
It has been such a long 10 years. I remember watching CNN and seeing the second plane hit. When Flight 93 crashed, I didn't realize until weeks later that we were something like 8 minutes airtime from the crash site. (Meaning if we were to fly from where we are to the crash site, it would only take 8 minutes.) 8 minutes. I can't drive to the kid's school in 8 minutes.
A few days after the attack, I was cleaning under the couch and found a picture CBS had drawn and hidden under there. I asked him about it, and at the age of 7 (when I thought I was severely monitoring what the kids saw on tv) he told me he had drawn a picture of a skyscraper with a plane flying into it and all the red on the sides of the building was from all the blood from all the people that had died.
That still brings tears to my eyes.
Once during a particular hard period in my life, a very kind and wise friend told me I had a tender-hearted soul. I thought I was being a cry-baby. My friend told me God wants a tender heart.
So I cry.
Not in joy of this day.
In rememberance of that day.
