I know there will be lots of September 11th posts today. I just want to put my little one up. Our flag is flying in front of our house right now. Our house that we have lived in for exactly seven years today.
We closed on this house in the evening of September 10th, 2001. We slept here that night on new beds we had delivered on that date. We woke up early on September 11th, 2001 so that we could enroll the three older kids in their new school and then get busy unpacking our moving truck.
While I was in the school office, parents were coming in hysterical and pulling their kids out of school. I had no idea what was going on. My kids teachers had already taken my kids to their classes but other teachers were coming up to the office asking the principal if they should tell the kids what had happened. I kept asking myself "what has happened?" but I had a nursing baby that I needed to get back to so I left. While I was driving home, my sister called me and told me that our country was being attacked and that I needed to get to a TV right away.
I called home and told Alan to unload one of our TVs and get it plugged in. When I got home we sat on the stairs (no furniture) and watched the news with tears streaming down our faces. We didn't unpack anything that day and when I had to go pick up the kids from school I tried to explain to them what had happened. I think that seven years later they are finally understanding what really happened that day.
That day I talked to everyone in my extended family and told them that I loved them. That day I prayed and prayed and prayed. That day I really understood what "terrorists" were and why they are called that. That day as I watched my husband play with our kids I cried for all of the kids whose daddies wouldn't come home. That day I realized that in the eternal scheme of things, a brand new home isn't all that important.