I remember how I felt that day. As I watched the news breaks...and then the constant news coverage on TV.
I remember how I sat, crying, feeling totally helpless, as I held my then 4mo old, Emily.
I remember how I felt as I had to tell my 4yo that, yes, people got hurt. And that yes, you are safe. And hoping and praying that it was true that she was safe.
I remember feeling like I needed to go to the grocery store (to stock up on staple goods) and fill up the gas tank, just in case....
I remember how I felt so sad when they showed the wall of pictures that families had posted..."Have you seen this woman? Have you seen this man?" Pictures of Americans that would never come home.
I remember all of this. And not only on September 11th, but especially on September 11th.
As I watched the Boy Scout color guard take down the flag from the flag pole at my children's school this evening...and as I watched the Marine Corp color guard present the flag this evening....and as I listened to my oldest daughter play the Star Spangled Banner in front of the large crowd...I felt proud to be an American.
I felt proud to help my youngest daughter place her hand on her heart as the flag was presented. I felt proud that I could remind my middle daughter that we should ALWAYS be respectful when our flag goes by (she is a good girl and tries very hard to remember all of this).
I feel proud that I could stand with my husband by my side. My children at my side. And sing the national anthem.
God Bless America.