I remember

 
I remember 9-11. In Arkansas, it was a Tuesday morning. I was awake at seven thirty to go to a youth group thing, but no one showed up. Not even the youth minister. The youth minister was my ride home. So at eight thirty, when there was still no one there except the lady running the bakery, I walked about a mile to get home, because my mom was at work, and I conked out almost immediately. I was home-schooled, so I didn’t have to worry about school and I wasn’t a morning person. My mom came home and also went to sleep since she worked nights. The next thing I remember is waking up to the news on, and it looked like a power plant had exploded. This was a valid thought, because there is a nuclear power plant in Arkansas that we passed every time to get to and from my dad’s house. My dad had called to see if we knew what had happened, and because of my brother’s greeting, knew that we hadn’t. He told my brother to wake up my mom and turn on the news. My dad has never told us or asked us to wake my mom up any other time. Never. He usually goes out of his way to make sure she sleeps. So my brother knew it was a big deal.

I was lucky. I didn’t lose anyone I knew on that day. But my dad signed up for the Army with the intention of serving a tour in Iraq. He’s now served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and he’s talking about going with his unit next time they’re deployed.

I remember 9-11. I haven’t watched any movie, and I don’t think I will. I don’t have to. That day is permanently engraved in my memory.

I had an emotional breakdown soon after my dad made it to Afghanistan. It suddenly hit me that he could be hurt, or even, God forbid, killed, and there was nothing I could do about it except pray.

My heroes are anybody who puts on a uniform. My mom is a nurse; she’s one of my heroes. I used to baby-sit some kids whose father is a firefighter. He’s one of my heroes. Police officers. Anyone in the military.

For anyone of the uniform-wearing people who might be reading this, I just want to say, You’re my hero. Thank you. Thank you for believing in something so much, you’re willing to fight and die for it. Thank you for wanting to protect human rights. Thank you for leaving your families and friends, whether it’s for nine months, eighteen months, or eight hours to go work a shift. Thank you for being willing to do whatever is asked of you. Thank you for not saying no to the fight because it would be too hard. Thank you for continuing in the face of adversity. Thank you for what you’ve done; thank you for what you are going to do. Thank you for going to wherever you’re sent. Thank you.

This was brought on by this post from liz_marcs. Go. Read it. Now. It needs to be read by anyone and everyone. Even if you don’t agree with some things that are said, the majority of it … the majority of it is pure truth for everyone. I’m not asking you to like it. I’m not asking you to agree. I’m asking you to read about it, and to think about it.

Thank you, Liz, for having the guts to say it, and for being able to put it so well. Thank you.

I was going to post a story, but I can’t right now. Seriously, I can’t. I’m crying and I can’t see through tears.

Story

( Phoenix Weeping )

Special thanks to aadler_, for the editing, and revision that ROCKS MY SOCKS OFF.

Side note: I have now edited this thing four times in the space of five minutes simply because I CAN’T REMEMBER TITLES! But this time, I have the correct title to accredit to aadler_.

Another Story

( Below the Surface )

Love it. Hate it. I don’t care. Just let me know. And props to draconin, who helped me in a major big way on some Xander responses. If anyone catches some serious errors (like spelling and grammar) let me know; I’m too tired to catch them right now, and LJ spellcheck is giving me a headache.