This is where I was when it happened.
I remember the phone waking me up.
I remember my sister telling me to turn on the news.
I remember turning on the tv just as the second tower was hit.
I remember sitting in this chair for hours, watching the news unfold.
I remember staring in disbelief.
I remember overwhelming patriotism in the following days.
I remember pride and unity filling my chest.
I remember donating blood for the first time ever, just so I could do something to help.
I remember yellow ribbons everywhere.
I remember wanting to wait to have children until my husband was out of the Army, so I wouldn't have to raise them on my own if something happened to him.
I remember his phone call (on my very first cell phone) from the plane to Kuwait, saying, “Life is too short,” and that he wanted to try for a baby when he got back.
I remember the agony of him being over there, before the news stations even knew there was a story to cover.
I remember the terror of “Shock and Awe.”
I remember completely agreeing with my husband that life really was too short.
And I remember giving birth to our baby girl just a little over a year later, in an Army hospital.
I remember the events of September 11, 2001. I cannot forget. I have daily reminders of those events in my daughter's eyes, in our yellow floral chair, in our red, white and blue. I remember everywhere.
