Savoring

The late afternoon light filters through the front window, filling the living room and kitchen with a soft warm glow.  The Husband is upstairs, working on homework, returning emails, keeping his mind on the positive things in life.  He had just run downstairs to fill his tumbler with water, kiss me on the forehead and say, “I love you more than anything.”  Homemade applesauce was bubbling away on the stove, the smell enveloping us like a warm hug, promising things yet unknown.

The summer is coming to an end, bringing shorter days and longer nights.  Labor Day has come and gone.  Patriot Day is fast approaching.  Patriot Day.  What an incredible name for such a horrible day.

Many times I heard folks from previous generations wax on about the day Kennedy was shot, how their world changed that day.  Until 9 years ago, I thought it was a dramatic attempt at creating their own piece of history.  September 11, 2001 changed all of that for me.  No longer do I think the generations gone by are waxing poetically about a sad piece of history, but a piece of their hearts that were broken beyond repair, an experience that shaped who they’ve become.

September 11, 2001 changed my life.  In the beginning I thought about the tragedy with practically every waking minute.  As time passed… lots of time, my thoughts were consumed with everyday issues, joys, heartache.  I was raised a patriot, the daughter and sister of Marines.  In our family, we didn’t balk at the “God, Country, Corps, Family” mentality, we lived it.

With the passage of time, I realized that the tragedy of September 11 no longer dominated my thoughts, but was always there… a piece of me, a part of my heart left broken and in shambles.

Just like any heartbreak, time has healed most of the wounds.

Time doesn’t take away the feeling of being punched in the gut as the days get closer and closer to 9/11.

Time doesn’t take away the pride that fills my heart when I think of our men and women who are continuously fighting for our freedom, to ensure that this never happens again.

Time doesn’t erase the worry lines that have taken residence on my face, I could name them:  The Husband.  The Brother.  The Troops.

I pray that each of us who lived through 9/11 take the lessons that day handed us and move forward with our lives.

I continually pray for healing, because for many of us… we haven’t quite healed yet.  I’m not sure we ever will.  What I am sure about is that there is a God who walks with me, who wraps His hands around my heart when it feels like it’s being squeezed from my chest.

I pray that each of us take the precious moments and savor them, knowing that life can change… in an instant.