I remember.

Seven years ago today, I was sipping tea in my living room at home in Edmonton Ky. My husband had just shipped off to Korea for a year long tour, and my two kids were 4 and 27 months. I was still getting used to the idea that I was home again from Georgia, and Jay was gone for the first time. I had a routine of getting up while the kids were still sleeping, having some tea, and watching Good Morning America.

I can't remember what was going on in the show when the special announcement came on, but I remember the look on Charlie's face when he announced that there had been an accident. I was glued to the television, marveling at the horror. Imagining all the people stuck in the top of the tower, and wondering if they could get a helicopter to the top to rescue them, when while I watched, a second plane flew into the screen. My first thought was that it was a plane surveying the damage, or news people getting footage. I thought my heart was going to stop beating when I realized what was going on. I knew instantly we were in trouble. Then the phone rang.

Jay was still awake, and watching the news and decided to call me. We were talking about what was going on, wishing that he were home. This was all so scary, what was going on?

Then the other reports. The white house!! The ABC camera was at such an angle that it looked like the WH was on fire. It was only after five minutes or so that they really got a better angle and realized that it was the Pentagon. I was immediatly afraid that the WH and other places were in serious danger. At that moment it seemed like the entire country was under attack, and God only knew what was going to be hit next.

I think I spent the next whole week watching tv. The only reason that I finally stopped was that I realized that though Laurel wasn't really watching, she would make strange comments, and get upset. She thought that every time she saw the pictures it was happening all over again. She was upset that I was upset, and though I really felt that I needed to be watching, that hearing the stories of the lost family members, and seeing their faces would somehow honor them, and I would remember them forever, I had to turn it off.

Every year, I watch the ceremony, in much the same way I watched the event itself happen. I sit on my couch with a cup of tea, and I listen to their names, and I look at their faces. I remember some of the stories, and I remember more of their faces. I cry for them. I cry for thier families, and I do think of them often through out the year. I remember them when my husband deploys, and I remember them when he comes home safe.

I don't pray, and I'm not sure I believe in God, but I do remember.