Remembering : Personal

Sunday, September 11
We're all reflecting...all remembering.
Remembering the nearly 3000 people lost, whether we knew them or not.
Remembering those who, against the human instinct of self-preservation,
went into, not out of the towers.
Remembering the Pentagon and Flight 93..."Let's roll."  I still get chills every time I think about it.   Remembering where we were, what we were doing, who we were with on September 11, 2001.

I was home with a 7 week old baby and a 17 month old toddler, still adjusting to our little family's new normal.  My husband called from his office uptown and said, "You'd better turn on the tv.  A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center."  Like everyone else, I was transfixed by what I saw.  Disbelief and horror set in as the second plane struck and the rest of the tragedy unfolded.
It became clear that this was not a horrible accident.

I wanted my husband home with me right THEN.  Second only to NYC in the banking industry, uptown Charlotte was on the quickly made perceived threat of attack list, and he.was.there.

I felt real fear for the first time that day.  And as scared as I was, I felt even worse for having loved ones to be afraid for.  My family was alive.

Giving blood, the one thing so many people did because it was all we could do, was off the table since I had a transfusion when Sam was born.  So, I held my family close, talked to family I couldn't get to and prayed.  It was natural to pray for the victims, but, each night, I made myself pray for everyone lost that day.  Everyone.  For the families of all lives lost that day.  All of them.
If hate could cause something like this, how could I not?