Remember. And Celebrate.

One voice spoke out, alerting us all that something had happened. A hush fell over the floor as we tried to grasp the chain of events that brought the world to a screeching halt. The day progressed in an anticipatory fog and as night fell, I found that I had a wrapped myself in a breathless heartbroken cocoon. I knew if I took a breath, I would be inhaling pure fear that would permeate me wholly. Sorrow was acceptable for me, fear was not. I woke the next morning wary, on my toes, steeling myself for a new world. And a new world it was. I had always known there were evil people who did atrocious acts. But my new world? My new world was full of heros. Heros. So many heros. Flight 93 fought back. Injured scared people helped their fellow citizens. NYPD and NYFD, their families, the families of those lost, the people from around the country who drove to hell to help anyway they could, people who gave money, shelter, comfort to those in need. All heros. I'll never forget those who were lost. Never. And I will always celebrate those donned their capes and worked to set the world straight again. Heros.