This day, I rose early. I had to get my oldest off to school. The school schedule was still new to me, being only the third day of Kindergarten. I didn't want to be late.
I send my darling beloved off to work, with a kiss. Made breakfast and started the coffee. As I got dressed I remember thinking how blessed I was. I had a lovely little family. I was skinny again, (so silly) I thought, as I pulled on my size 6 jeans. Yes, life was good.
I sauntered off to school, placing my baby in the care of virtual strangers. My false sense of security held firmly in place by the fact that I was an American.
I returned to my beautiful home in the idyllic countryside. My mother was visiting. I was so glad to have her with our little family. As we sat together, sipping coffee making plans for the day, I bounced my 2 year old daughter happily on my knee.
Life was good.
My morning routine was not complete without a healthy dose of Martha. Every morning I would sit with my coffee and watch Martha Stewart share her knowledge with the world. This morning was only slightly different than others, I had my mother there to share this tradition with me. Sunshine, Martha, and my mommy, could life be any better?
At 8:50 am, I flipped on the T.V. to catch a little news before bathing in Martha's current crafty goodness, the screen flickered. Peter Jennings' frantic voice broke through my morning calm.
The screen was soon my only focus. As I stared in sheer terror at what was flashing before my eyes, I stopped breathing. The whole world as I knew it stopped spinning.
I was suddenly struck with the awareness that my baby was in the care of those afore mentioned strangers. I rushed for the phone, dialed the school. The ringing in my ears was deafening. Then the operator broke through and informed me that all of the lines were clogged. Clogged, what is that. A toilet that won't flush. A sink that won't drain. But the phone line? I was put on hold till a line opened up to the school.
I stood with the phone glued to my head, gaping at what flashed across the T.V. The secretary of the school broke through to my foggy brain. 'The school was in total lock down. The children were all safe. As soon as they regained some order they would be sending the children home, be prepared to come pick up your son.'
Could I actually drive? Could anyone?
I sat hard on the edge of my sofa. The weight of sadness too much to bear.
What was to come of all of this? Where would we, as American's, go from here? How would these gaping wounds ever close?
The feelings of blessing, from earlier in the morning, even more pertinent now.
As Americans moved on, healing and rebuilding, growing and learning, we fought to keep what we hold dear, safe from harm.
For all those still fighting: THANK YOU!! May America not forget what you are fighting for.