Decade

It's actually not so hard to believe that it's been ten years since 9/11. It feels like so long ago. I was 14 years old, sitting in Ms. Lucas's Personal Fitness class, a freshman in high school. The tv was turned on after the teacher received a phone call, and we witnessed live how the second plane devastated the second tower. It was surreal, and the memory is too.

There is so much to say about how that day has affected my life and the lives of those I love. A decade of war has left its mark on my mind and heart. I'll never forget watching hours of footage of hazy, dusty New York City. The national anthem is now a haunting tune, and "land of the free, home of the brave" never fails to bring a tear to my eye. Most recently, Anthony and I lost a friend fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan. He was a good man, husband and father.

I don't have the heart or patience or will to write about how deeply and intricately 9/11 has changed my life. One day I will tell my children everything I can remember, no matter how heartbreaking. One day Anthony will explain the black bracelet that he wears in memory of Demetrius. I only hope that I can impart to them the peace and hope that my parents shared with me in a dark and confusing time.

On 9/11, I came home from school with my mom and sisters. I waited on the front porch for the afternoon until I saw my dad's truck in the driveway as he came home from work. I met him at the gate, and with a flurry of questions, wanted to know what exactly had happened, as if he was privy to national security secrets that no one on the news knew.

I remember his strong hug, proud walk, and gentle hands. He told us it would be ok, and we prayed. And I knew that God still cared.