Thank You

Eight years ago today, I was supposed to be going to work at 7pm at the hospital in Labor and Delivery. I had been working at the hospital since July, but the unit was not yet opened. We had been working to get it to that point. This was to be my first night on duty in the newly opened unit.

That morning, I got up, walked The Boy to school (we basically lived in their backyard), and planned on going home to sleep so I could be awake that night. I was just laying down when I got a phone call telling me to turn on the news.

I watched as the second plane hit. And I cried.

I cried because I was scared. I cried because I was sad. I cried because I was mad. Did I go get my boy from school? No. Did I want to? Oh yeah! Would I go get him today if this had happened now instead of then? You bet. But for different reasons.

I would get him today because he is older and better able to ask questions that I want to be the one to answer. I would get him today because he has become more concerned with my welfare and safety and he would need to know that I am fine.

Today is a day for remembering and for thanking. We remember those who died on that day in NYC, at the Pentagon and in a Pennsylvania field. All of those who were just working at having a normal day. Those who saved others by fighting off terrorists in the sky and by sacrificing their well being, and who may also have saved many others that the plane was aimed for.

I feel that we should also remember those who have died since that day. Those soldiers who go out everyday and fight to give me the freedom to say what I want to say. Those who leave their families for months at a time to place themselves in harms way to hopefully keep us all from having to face another 9/11.

I want to tell not only those soldiers but their families, along with the soldiers who go over and not come back and their families this: My family and I thank you for your sacrifice.