Forgive Me Please

I had a post for September 11 but I scrapped it. I was going to pick a name but I couldn't. Nothing I could say would give justice to so many brave souls.

I was going to tell you how I felt, how I feel. I can't. I'm actually still numb. Still numb from knowing that there are people out there intent on killing us. On killing me. What is the crime? Being an American.

I was going to tell you that I can remember sitting in my 50th Floor office looking at the sky and wondering if we were next, but the fear and anger I felt at that moment cannot be put into words.

I was going to tell you how my husband and I wanted to be in New York to help or wanted to join the military or do anything. It was then that we resolved to become volunteer firefighters. The memory of our brothers is seared into our minds whenever a call comes over the radio.

I was going to tell you how when I got home that evening I crumpled to the ground sobbing. But my words again can't do justice to my feelings at that moment.

I was going to tell you about my best friends' son. He turned 11 on September 10th. On September 12th he told his mom that he would never enjoy another birthday as long as he lived because the day after his birthday so many people died for nothing and he watched it happen. Do you know how heartbreaking those words are to hear?

I was going to tell you about the rush of hatred I feel when I think of fundamentalist muslims, and that I have to calm myself because I am not that person. But I can't put into words the rise in my blood pressure and the flush to my face.

I was going to tell you how I scan the faces of the other passengers on a plane or train. Or how I look at other drivers on the road. My paranoia rises with each passing day.

I was going to tell you how worried I was to bring my child into this world. How I wonder whether he will be taken from me in an instant because of the malicious lies young children in muslim countries are told about young children here. I wonder if I can protect him from that hatred when it is so hard to protect him from the trials in this country alone.

I was going to tell you that this day is sacred to me. That not far from my home Flight 93 crashed into a corn field and that it serves as a reminder that even here, in the hills of the Ohio valley, I am not safe.

I was going to tell you so much more. But the words simply escape me. So please, forgive me for not giving you a post to match those out there in the sphere today. Forgive me for remembering in my own way. Forgive me for not doing more.