9/11

I think my almost 14-year-old summed up Sept. 11, 2001, better than anyone else.

Pickle: It was the worst day in America ever.

Today, let's remember 8-year-old Zoe Falkenberg who died on American Airlines Flight 77, along with her parents, Charles Falkenberg and Leslie Whittington, and her 3-year-old sister, Dana. Their flight careened into the Pentagon.

It seems like each year I'm not sure what to say when I sit down at the computer. I want so badly to forget that day, but I can't. It is burned in my brain. And, each year, I'm amazed at how easily the memories come rushing back and, once again, my eyes are brimming with tears remembering the shock of sitting in front of the TV and watching it all unfold. The following days of wondering what was going to happen next. Looking over my shoulder, keeping my children a little tighter to me. Reassuring my children that I'd do everything I could to keep them safe, knowing that I may not be able to fulfill my promise.

Never forget.

Update: Talking to the little ones on the way to school this morning and reminding them about 9/11 and why it is an important date to remember. Hot Rod told Sister that some bad men flew airplanes into some buildings.

Hot Rod: But, why did they do that?
AoM: To kill people.
Hot Rod: But, they destroyed their planes?
AoM: They stole the planes and they didn't care.
Hot Rod: But, didn't the people flying the planes die, too?
AoM: Yes.
Little Bit: But, if God made all people, how can they be bad?
AoM: Yes, God made all people, but he gives us the ability to make choices. They chose to be bad.
Little Bit: But, why would anyone want to be bad and kill people?
Hot Rod: They say they're doing it for God.
Little Bit: *recoiling in horror*
AoM: They think they're doing it for God, but God doesn't want us to kill each other for Him.

Later, on the way to taking Pickle to the middle school, he told me that he is very glad his birthday is tomorrow and not today. It would be a crummy day to celebrate your birthday, he said. Yep, that is one of the first things Army of Dad said to me when we realized we were under attack. I'm glad Pickle's birthday isn't marred by this forever.