It was a beautiful, sunny day. I was four months pregnant and beaming. My first grade students were finishing up their work before it was time to go to gym class. I was standing behind my desk, which faced the hallway windows and door to my classroom. Suddenly, I saw my husband and the expression on his face instantly made my heart sink. The only other time he had visited my classroom this early in the day was when his father suddenly became ill and passed away within a month.
He came into my classroom and my students beamed, "Hi Chuck!" He said hello and quickly walked up to my desk. He leaned in and whispered, "Terrorists just crashed a plane into one of the twin towers". I remember how my face felt when he said those words. After my students left for gym class, we turned the television on in my classroom and watched in horror as we heard that a second plane had crashed. What the hell was going on? I remember having my blue cropped sleeved maternity shirt on and rubbing the bump that protruded from my body thinking, "What kind of world am I getting ready to bring my child into?"
The school came together as the director told the children what had happened. It was hard to stay calm for them. It was hard not to cry about the terrors that were taking place. One of my student's fathers worked in the Twin Towers. My heart sunk. Thankfully, his father had come into town and he decided not to go into work that day. What a weird coincidence, but then again, I don't believe in coincidences. That was a true miracle.
I remember going home to my empty house that afternoon and taking candles out onto my front porch and lighting them, keeping them burning for the victims as silent prayers. We were all victims that day.
I could never forget what happened to so many on that day. Every year, when September comes around and the 11
Th comes closer, and then the thought pops in my head, "This week is 9-11" my heart sinks. I try to remember that today and every day of life is a blessing. I try to remember that this is a day of birthdays and
anniversaries and happy memories. But still, I can never forget.
God bless America! I love my country, I have always supported this war and our troops, and I could care less if I have to stand in line for an extra hour in the airports before a trip. I still have my freedom, but I can never forget.
The little bump that was inside of me is three days shy of being 7 1/2 years old. She can't forget, because it is all she has ever known. And to those of you who lost someone on that tragic day, or knew or were a hero to all of those victims in need, my prayers are always with you. Just like that candle, endlessly burning on my front porch. A forever prayer for Peace.
Here we are back when we were in our twenties.
