Where were you? I have seen it so many places on the internet today and heard it so many times on tv, watching all the 9/11 tributes.
I had just gotten out of the shower when Hubs came in and told me about the first plane. I didn’t believe him. We went to the tv just in time to see the second plane hit.
Noodle was in kindergarten. I took her to school and walked her up to her line that day. As I was standing there waiting for Mama B to get there with M1, a firery little red headed girl, who never sat still, a Tazmanian devil of sorts if you will, came up to me and grabbed my hand and just stood still for a minute. She said “A plane hit the building” I told her I saw it and that the best thing we could do right then was pray for everyone. She squeezed my hand and off again she went leaving a trail behind her.
A little girl who’s name was Hope. Hope is what I think of when I remember that horrible day. Hope, the little girl. Hope for our great nation. Hope for those who were lost. Hope for those who were left behind. Hope for those who serve. Hope for their family members who wait at home. Hope for all things still to come. Just HOPE.