September 11

Nine years. I guess it should be easy to remember how long it has been as Audrey was born the year it happened. Nine years with my first born and nine years of sad anniversaries. I do remember that morning.

I had a seven month old baby that still didn't sleep. I had quit working just a few weeks before her birth. Life was different. I was in transition. I was sleep deprived.

I didn't usually turn the t.v. on in the morning, but that morning I did. I put it on the Today Show which is something I rarely watch. We were living in the city at the time, and I was standing between the couch and the kitchen. I think Audrey was in her highchair. Then I glanced up and saw the footage.

One plane had crashed into the Twin Towers. There was mass confusion. Unsureness about what was going on. I had to get closer, so I sat down close to the t.v. Then the day's events started happening. I held Audrey most of the day just needing to be as close to her as possible. Eric and I spoke on the phone a lot.

In the weeks that followed, I was glued to the t.v. I had to hear everything about what had happened and what was currently happening. There was a lot of footage of people with "Missing" signs-all wanting answers. Every story was heartbreaking. Each one sadder than the next.

I also remember during this time, feeling safe and protected. I felt that my country was good and strong and united. I had a secure feeling deep inside me that reassured me despite everything that was going on. War scared me, but I eventually accepted it.

So here I am today. How long has today been know as Patriot Day? I feel embarrassed in admitting that I didn't know that today was know by that name. I just remember 9-11. I guess a better way of looking at it is to think that 9-11 only happened once, nine years ago. Since that one day, all 9-11s that follow, should be know by something else. Patriot Day.

As today approached, I thought about it. I could feel it coming. I didn't have any plans for this somber day. I hadn't planned on recognizing it by doing any one thing in particular. Praying is a part of my daily existence, so I prayed. I remembered. We had our flag up. That was about it. Then...

I had to go to my parent's house in the morning. They are on vacation and I went alone. I took Highway 55 to get there. Then for the return drive home, I decided to take Telegraph all the way down to Highway 61/67. It was on Telegraph that I started noticing clusters of people on the shoulder with flags. They, along with police officers were dappled on the left and right sides of the road. Some were just an individual family standing beneath an umbrella holding a flag. Sometimes there would be a large group congregating at the entrance to a subdivision.

I crossed the Meramec River and was officially in Jefferson County-my home county for the past eight years. There, people were everywhere. Standing, sitting, with flags, with dogs...waiting. I passed the new firehouse where the firefighters had huge flags hanging from their ladder trucks. Their faces all looked in the same direction. The direction I was traveling.

I called Eric and told him what was going on. The route I was traveling, is a direct route to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. I remembered a local man-Army Staff Sergeant James Ide V, was recently killed in Afghanistan. His third deployment. Disgusting. I read the week before that he worked with a dog and was out with him when he was shot and killed. That simple. Over forever.

I turned left on Highway 61/67 and was greeted by more people along the sides of the road. All looking south, all waiting. I drove about a mile when it happened. A police officer, leading a convoy, was driving north with his arm out his window pointing to get off the road. Luckily, there was a large parking lot and I pulled right in and got out of the truck. I approached the road where people were lined up and watched.

First came law enforcement- police, sheriffs, highway patrol, state patrol. On and on. Then came hundreds of bikers- American and POW flags abundant. They were followed by a stream of cars-lights on in procession. It felt good standing there with everyone else. Burying a soldier on Patriot Day is bittersweet. How could this story get any sadder? Standing there, my heart hurt.

Ever since I heard about his death, I just couldn't get over the fact that this was his THIRD deployment. That is just too much to ask. It really, really is. I also couldn't help but think of my cousin who just came home from Afghanistan a month ago. It was his third deployment as well. Actually, he and this soldier were both deployed to Iraq twice and sent to Afghanistan on their third deployments.

A week ago, I sat down with my husband and dad (both veterans) and ended up having a conversation about soldiers. We talked about the son of my dad's friend who suffered a major brain injury while in Iraq. We followed this man's progress through email updates his mom sent out from the time of his injury until his eventual discharge from the hospital.

We talked about my cousin. He chose not to reenlist in the Marines. Then there was talk about the draft. Should it be reinstated? How many times can/should we deploy a soldier into a war zone? If they are lucky, and physically survive all of that combat, what shape do they return home in?

A friend just shared this saying with me, "Sailors go on ships and ships go to sea." That helped give me some perspective on all of this. Yes, our soldiers know what they've signed up for. This is where I want to insert a great big BUT. But it's not fair, but it is so sad, but it's so dangerous, but they shouldn't have to... Maybe it really is "but this is their job and they do whatever is asked". I just don't like asking. Not at all.