Where were you?

Today isn't a normal day for me. I don't think it should be for anyone. Eight years ago it was changed forever. It was my first morning home from the hospital with Caden. Rick was on his way home from work. My mom called and told me to turn on the news. I remember sitting there holding him and crying in fear of the world I'd brought him into. We were living in our first little house and I could still tell you how the furniture was arranged. The feelings that ran through me are hard to explain, but I doubt that I really have to - we were all feeling pretty much the same.
Eight years later the feelings are less intense and the fears for my children have faded but many of the emotions are still the same. Each year on this day I wake in the morning and seem to be immediately taken back in time. Today was no different except that I had three children on my bed with me. I wanted the boys to listen to a poem being read on the radio and wanted to talk to them a little about that morning. I don't want them to ever think this is ancient history. Two of them lived it in their own sheltered ways. It will impact the rest of their lives in one way or another. Flying on airplanes or visiting the white house someday it will forever be a shadow. I hope to instill in them a deep understanding and respect for all of the people who risked their lives and those who had no choice. A couple of years ago we made a special trip into Manhattan just to walk around the site before it is changed forever. We all needed to see the deep scar left. The size of it was simply amazing. Being there, standing in that same place was a very solemn experience. I hope that the world never forgets this day but even more than that I hope that America never reaches a point where it becomes a trivialized part of our history.