911

I won't share my story of where I was on the morning of September 11, 2001, because it's like most everyone else's. I was here, 2,000 plus miles away from where it happened. Yes I did cry. I cry thinking about this day. But September 11 has another meaning for me. My mom's dad died on this day in 1965. He had sold his horse and couldn't get it loaded in the trailer, it was being very stubborn. So instead, he decided to ride it over to the man he sold it to. He was on the highway and the horse got spooked and ran into traffic. They both got hit and he died. My mom was 10 years old when this happened. And on March 11, 1999, her mother died of lung cancer....exactly 33 and 1/2 years after her dad died. I don't know if you know the significance of this, but Jesus died when he was 33 and 1/2 years old. Just seems to me that somehow God brought my grandparents back together.

Anyway, I don't want to make it seem as if that was more important than the WTC attacks. I never felt so sad after it happened. And every September 11 I feel even more sad for the people that have to deal with their losses on this day. But it also makes me feel like a very proud American to know that we didn't just lay down and take it. We fought back. WE FOUGHT BACK.