It was a simple, normal Tuesday. I was woken up by the baby. She needed her breakfast and a change. She was just one and a bit. She was easy to get ready so I could wake up her two brothers. One was in his freshmen year of high school and had a bus to catch. The other was a third grader but home schooled.

I made us all breakfast, got lunch money together, and hurried the oldest on to the bus. The baby was placed on a blanket with her toys. I then set the TV to Fox’s morning show.

Every other weekday my son was assigned to watch the news, pick one story and write at least a paragraph about it. He did not get right on it because we first went through that days work. We would plan what he could do on his own and what he needed help with.

I cannot really tell you what other news there was that day. I really was not paying attention until I saw something life changing. It was at first just a glimpse of a plane out of the corner of my eye. When I turned my head and watched it, I physically felt the world tilt.

My son did not realize why tears started to fall. When the second plane hit my world grumbled. With the third and fourth I was numb. I had family in the area of all three sites. I had a cousin in the service. I felt with all that I was, that they were touched by this.

I explained what was going on to my son as best as I could. I couldn’t figure out how to tell him why people were jumping from a building when they knew they could not land safe. How could I when I didn’t comprehend it all myself?

When the towers fell so did all that the world was before. I knew nothing would ever be the same. This was America. It could not happen here. Right? We had lived through Pearl Harbor, High jacked planes, and Oklahoma City’s horror. They touched many of us but not in a way that shattered the confidence of the nation as a whole.

We could blame other countries for their lack of security for the planes from the past. Pearl Harbor was a horrid thing that happened in far off Hawaii during wartime. Crazy homegrown nuts caused Oklahoma City. None was on the same scale even as horrible as they were.

The days passed in a haze. People hung flags in support of the fallen heroes. I had hung mine outside my house for years. People rallied around our new president. That glow would fade.  The mayor of New York became a loved man even as the time closed on his term. In addition, the firefighters, police, soldiers and civilians were unearthed and counted.

The numbers could have been so much higher but they were still such a shock. So many lives lost. So many people, families, had to rebuild their lives with out a loved one. 60 countries lost people, so we were not alone in our grief.

Image via Wikipedia

But now, eight years later, where are we? Have we forgotten how we felt that day? If we did not lose a loved one, or wait to hear our phone ring, do we still think about the loss of others? Did our government really learn anything, and have they avenged those lost? Did the death, destruction, and fear make it so we would always treasure life?

On a personal level, yes, many of us have. I take the anniversary as a day to give back. The family and I volunteer at the local food bank. It is our way to remember. We don’t make a big deal of it we just do it. My kids have made pictures and fruit baskets for our local fire department as a thank you for their service.

As a nation, I’m not sure. I know we set the day aside but I would love to hear what others do on that day. Do people reflect on what happened? Do they work service to others into their busy day? I don’t see the streets lined with flags in support of the nation. I hear grumbling directed at our troops.

Here in my area I don’t see much difference in September 10th and 11th in the way the city flows. People go to work and live their lives. Parks are not picked up. Blood isn’t donated. People just carry on.

I know we should not pick at healing wounds but I also know that if we forget then those lost, died for nothing.