From Terri: I questioned whether or not I should post this. I knew that it was something I needed to write but I could never bring myself to it until today.
This is not a sex story in any way so it is unfamiliar territory for me--and I am sure that the formatting is poor and the thoughts are just all over the place. I just sorta put them down in the order which they came out, and some of them relate to people and their own situations. Be forewarned that this deals with a theme which is very sensitive to a lot of people.
The 12th
In some ways, it was certainly the second-most terrible day you could ever imagine. Maybe it was your best day as well.
You walked with your kids in the morning, only this time you didn't just walk to the corner--you walked them all the way to the school. Or all the way to the bus stop, and you not only waited for them to get on, but you watched till they were completely out of sight.
On the way back, you said hello and talked with people whom two days ago you might have just nodded casually to, or ignored. Suddenly, it didn't matter so much that their skin was a different color, or they held different beliefs.
You lined up to give blood even though you are afraid of needles.
You cried--or maybe you couldn't.
You heard and saw fire trucks. Maybe for the first time, you thought of them not as a red truck with a blaring siren, but in terms of the people inside them.
You called your sister, because suddenly that argument you had with her at the Labor Day picnic seemed so petty and insignificant.
You turned on the TV. You rallied behind the man on the screen, even though you didn't vote for him.
You went to work. This time you didn't push or shove your way to get on the crosstown bus. You saw empty seats and wondered if those people were safe.
You watched the interviews of frightened people holding photographs. You prayed for a happy ending for at least one of them, even though you didn't know them.
You watched the same scene replayed over and over again. Turmoiled emotions gave way to rage as the ticker began scrolling at the bottom of the screen--especially the names followed only by single digits.
You decided that today, the tight budget wasn't all that important, and you took your family to the local diner. It was deserted so you tipped the waitress the entire amount of the dinner.
You went for a newspaper, and they were all sold out.
You prayed with your daughter before tucking her in.
You thought about your second cousin in the Army, and found yourself asking yourself what exactly it is that he does, and wondering where he was at that moment.
You forgave someone whom you'd needed to. You hugged someone whom you'd always wanted to.
You decided to try to stick to your routine, so you put on your workout clothes and running shoes. This time was different. You stopped outside your front door, and instead of your usual stretching on the railing--you reached over and you took that Flag out of its holster.
You ran.
Down your street, then the next street over, then the next until you were running through the center of town. Carrying the Flag in front of you--today, it was a little more than a token which usually gets buried in the coat closet for 363 days a year. The run was a little different too. This wasn't your usual workout where you could get tired or bored after a mile or so, and go do something else.
So you ran.
Horns blared, traffic stopped. They didn't care that they were going to be late.
You just ran.
You read a book to your son. Then you chose another book and read that one too. Then when he was asleep you called up your mom and dad.
You probably appreciated life, and the people in it, more at that point in time than any other.
Certainly it changed everyone, and positive things were taken. But today, maybe that Flag is back in the coat closet, or still on the porch but tattered, weatherbeaten and you walk past it without considering it much. Maybe the kids go off to school, you go off to work, business is as usual. Maybe you've lost touch with friends, drifted apart from relatives, as happens all too often.
God willing that we will never have another day like the day before...but maybe it would be nice if we could love one another, and our country, and ourselves, like it were the 12th again.
