Eight years ago I sat in my little one bedroom apartment and watched our nation change. I watched my generation grow up. I watched one of the most defining moments of our countries life. For days afterward I watched. I watched the families looking for loved ones. I watched our nation come together. I am not a great writer, and people can and will speak of this day much better that I ever could, but I can say that I was moved. Moved beyond words.
I remember thinking that this day should be a national holiday. A day set aside to remember. I thought it was strange, almost wrong, as people went on about their days as normal in the years that passed. I don't know what I wanted, but as previews came on the TV for movies and their release date was September 11th, I thought "How odd...what a terrible day to choose". When my brother-in-law graduated, his graduation date was September 11th. And again I thought, "Why not choose a different day? Shouldn't it be a day to remember? A day to morn our countries losses." I know the world and life cannot stop, but I felt it could at least slow down. Out of respect. Out of morning. To remember.
Then there was last year. Last year on September 11th I had my egg retrieval. The day that Henry was made. The day that my six other little embryos that are frozen were made as well. One of the most important days of my entire life. I thought very little of our nations past on that day. I thought only of my families future. Of our hopes and our dreams all riding on one day. On September 11th. Now the date has a double meaning. One of the saddest days in our nations history. And one of the happiest days of my life. I still think it should be a day to remember. I just now have more things that are worth remembering. And now I understand a little more that life goes on. That we cannot all just stop our lives to remember. We do better remembering by living our lives, not by standing still.