7 Years

It is hard to believe it has been 7 years since the attack. Any time I see something or hear something about that day, I still cry like it was yesterday. I find it disheartening and, frankly, repulsive that some people do not care about that day. I will never forget where I was, what I was doing, or how I felt. I lived in Richmond, Virginia, and we had fighter jets flying over our house. We were close enough to the pentagon, and had our own government buildings that were of importance, that they shut part of the city down. I was working in an emergency room at that point and I waited to hear if I would be needed back at work for survivors. Not getting that call was awful. You always have hope that there will be people walking, or carried, out of a tragedy. When we did not get any, it was devastating. I just kept thinking, "Can no good come out of this?" I was wrong, sort of. The country pulled together, and I finally felt that maybe the country was turning around. That, however, did not last and it makes me sad.

I am proud to be an American, but I am not always proud of my fellow countrymen.