9/11.

The ten year anniversary of 9/11 is coming up on Sunday. It's hard to believe that ten years have passed since that day that changed so much about how we Americans think and perceive the world around us. A friend and I talked about how we can still remember that morning so clearly - the things we were doing, where we were, the images we saw, the emotions we felt. It's a moment that is so much a part of my generation, and yet it's strange to think that many young people, even some not much younger than me, don't remember that day with the same clarity because of their age at that time. I read an thoughtful opinion piece about telling your children about 9/11. And while I don't have children, I related to the feeling of trying to explain it to someone who couldn't comprehend that day when it happened.

I was entering my sophomore year of college and had just moved into a new apartment with friends. It was so new, we barely had any furniture and no television. On top of our TV stand was our boombox radio (man, I feel old typing that), which we would turn on in the mornings while we got ready for work/school/the day. That morning, we flipped the radio on, and instead of the latest hip hop song we heard President Bush's voice speaking. It was solemn. It was serious. My roommate and I stood there frozen, listening as the news came across the airwaves. Even now, I remember the knot in my stomach, the furrowed brow as I tried to take in all that was happening. We went down to the theater room in our apartment complex and asked them to turn the news on. And we sat and watched on the large screen, as images of the World Trade Center towers flashed over and over, leaving an imprint that has not faded in ten years time. I didn't know how to feel - sad, anxious, scared, hopeless, confused, shocked. It was a jumble of emotions and to this day, I can't sort them all out.

The rest of the day was a blur. Eventually, we reached my cousin who was living in the heart of NYC at the time. We reached our close family friend who worked in the Pentagon. We learned that those we knew personally were safe, but that the tragedy of our fellow Americans still pierced our souls with grief.

My mom was in a state of heightened anxiety, because my brother has enlisted in the Army two years earlier. Her prayer had been that there would be no wars during his four-year term of service. And immediately on that day, we knew that there would be a response to such a violent attack on American soil. (He was later deployed to the Middle East, but did not get looped in to the extended active duty that so many soldiers were recalled for.)

It's strange to think back to how things used to be different, and yet we don't even notice now because they have become so commonplace. As I'm currently blogging from the airport on a layover during one of my coast-to-coast trips, this is where things have changed so much. I remember when you used to be able to escort your loved one to the gate and watch their plane fly off into the sky. Or when you didn't need to get little travel sized liquids to fit in a small zip lock bag. Or when you didn't need to throw out that half-drunk Coke bottle because you could just take it with you to the plane. Individual pat downs were rare, and there wasn't even body scanner technology available. It was a different world, one with fewer fears and, admittedly, fewer dangers.

I will be flying back into D.C. on Sunday, the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I will be praying for a safe journey, and for the safety of all Americans on that day.