9-11 is always there, in the back of my mind, lurking. Every time I read 9:11 on the clock, I think of that day.
I was like most people, positively glued to the television for days. I stayed up all hours of the night, watching. I was obsessed. Living in Killeen, right next to Fort Hood, I had many friends who were headed to Iraq when the war began. I sat and watched as they crept closer to Baghdad. I always looked to see if they might interview a soldier I knew. I cried every time I heard the national anthem.
Eventually the constant coverage of the war slowed. Pretty soon it was just a highlight during the newsreel to talk about how many soldiers we lost that day. Pretty soon we all stopped thinking about it constantly. I don't cry when I hear the Star-Spangled Banner anymore.
But somewhere, it's there, always in the back of my mind. Someday my daughter will learn about it in school and ask me questions because Mommy lived through 9-11. Maybe she'll even do a report about it for history class. It's my hope that she'll never have to live through anything like that to tell her children about, but I know better than that. History always repeats itself, in some form or fashion, right?
So my only prayer can be that she live through it from a distance, like I did on 9-11. Not firsthand. I don't wish that on anyone.
FYI...I took that flag photo in August of 2007. It's one of the most popular photos on my Flickr stream. That makes me smile.