This time last year I was with my best friends in the most ridiculous government class known to man. The "teacher" made us watch a video on 9/11 that made me feel more sick and less proud. There was a period after the attacks that I felt that way. My stomach constantly in knots because I didn't understand why a human being could act so awful to others. But, I'm proud again. Proud of the people who do what's right and proud that I grew up understanding.
I was in third grade. I remember feeling so old, but I wish no eight year old had to try to understand these things. As far as I remember I was the first student to know, and the teachers still knew very little because it was happening as we got our spelling words for the week. My step dad came down the street to school to tell me because my mom was on a plane headed to Utah for my grandma's birthday on that very day.
It was weird. I was scared and I wanted my mom home. I've always kind of looked forward to the anniversary because when I can get a good cry from hearing someone's story with a happy ending, or even a sad one that evokes hope, I grab it by the horns. For all the times I roll my eyes at what people do or say, there are ten more times that I am amazed and humbled by the good in the world.
It's become a big deal to share where you were on that day ten years ago, but there are people out there who still need to share their story. Some can't in this life and we appreciate them and pray for their families.