Eighteen Years Ago

My life is very different than it was then.

Early morning wake up. My husband had already left for work. I worked part-time. My just-turned four year old daughter was already at preschool.

At home in our living room with my two year old daughter, I had Good Morning America playing. Maybe you’ve seen this timeline:

What was that? I saw the crash in the background of the show. People started to question. Such brief moments then more destruction. I picked up my baby and wished I had her sister there with us that morning. More questions. Suggestions of terrorism in our country.

I learned later, much later as she couldn’t reach me right away, that my mom’s travel survey job had taken her to a nursing home close enough to see the smoke when the pentagon was hit that morning. Thankfully my daddy had recently retired and was traveling with her. Their rental car instead of bringing them home allowed them to travel more and her to work more when air travel stopped.

Our house was near both an air force base and an airport. We always heard planes...until we didn’t for a few weeks. That abnormal silence was not peaceful. The silence was filled with questions. Later we heard more. We learned of suicide bombers and courageous stories of heroes who tried to stop them. “Let’s roll.”

My fifteen year old was not yet born. We had not yet moved to the farm. Our lives were much different then. Our country was much different then.

I will never forget.

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