September 11


Every year on September 11 I react differently. Some years I cry and some years I don’t. Sometimes I watch the documentaries and sometimes I avoid any talk of that terrible day altogether.

This year was a crying year. I don’t mean to be sad anymore, but I still can’t help it after all these years.

To be  honest, I forgot 9/11 was today. I got up at 4:48 a.m. to drag my butt to a spinning class at my gym. It wasn’t until I was driving home a sweaty hot mess that a radio personality mentioned it was September 11, and I just wasn’t prepared. It hit me and it hit me hard. All of the memories came flooding back, and the tears came flooding with them.

I cried on the way home, then proceeded to lay with my dog Remmy and cry some more. He was very comforting, as usual, so I thanked him for being a dog and not capable of terrible things before sending him out to pee.

Like most Americans, I remember exactly where I was that day. I remember being mad that my mom came to school to pick me and my sister up because we were locked in homeroom with our friends — totally oblivious to the terror attacks — having a great day. I remember her telling me that there had been a terrorist attack on our country and that people were crashing planes into buildings. I remember not fully understanding what was going on, but being terrified and sad and confused all at once. I remember watching over and over and over the footage of the planes crashing into the Towers, and then the gruesome footage of the Towers collapsing. I remember hearing about the Pentagon, and then the plane that crashed into the Pennsylvania field. I remember.

I was going to do a post today about our time in Chicago, and I have a fun wedding craft to share with you, too. But it seemed wrong to share these things today. Today we remember. We remember those we lost and we cling to the terrible memories of that day in hopes they inspire us to be better people in the future.

Proud to be an American today and every day.

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