The Day America Held Its Breath

September 11^th was like any of the other 534 Tuesday's that I had lived in my short, 10 year old life. We were living in Monroe, North Carolina at the time and it was sunny and 79 degrees, a little warm for an autumn morning. I remember this day explicitly because every Tuesday during the school year, our homeschool group would come together and meet at the local park to enjoy the outdoors. The moment we got in the car, I knew something was wrong. Our radio station was tuned to the usual station, but all they were playing over and over was this news report. I remember my slightly older pre-teen sister asking my mom to change the station to something that was playing some music. But it didn't make a difference. Every station on the FM wavelength was playing the same bulletin, reporting on the same story. Being ten years of age, I had never heard of the World Trade Center nor never knew the significance. But that was about to change.

The sense of something being wrong increased as we pulled into the parking lot of the park. Instead of the laughter and squeals from the merry-go-round and the toddlers crying at the seesaw, there was one congregation underneath the picnic shelter. Parents and kids of all ages sat hushed around a portable radio that someone had brought out, listening to the same report that had been playing for well over an hour now. “Two planes have been flown into the side of the World Trade Center in New York City right now and officials are scrambling to try to find the origin of the attacks...” A few of the parents stood off in the back of the crowd with their hands over their mouths as tears slowly made their way down fear-frozen faces. It seemed like everyone had forgotten how to move, how to think. I can't remember how long this scene went on, but after a while the parents turned off the radio and shooed all of the children out of the shelter to go play. After clearing the picnic shelter, they consoled one another in tones that painted death in shades of gray.

Still not fully understanding, we all went off and tried our best to enjoy the beautiful September skies. Later that night, we, along with every other household in America, watched the news for hours trying to fully grasp the brevity of the situation. It was the day that America held its breath in horror of the events that took place.

Now, 10 years later, America holds its breath once again as we pause to reflect on lives lost and the heroes that sacrificed themselves that others might live. When I was thinking about enlisting 9/11 didn't give me any cause for hesitation. If anything, it solidified my premonitions. I joined to serve and protect the people I love. Not out of some whacked out sense of self-importance, but so that if it ever came down to it, I know that I wouldn't be holding back.

My heart goes out to the firefighters, first responders, police men and women, and all of the soldiers, marines, sailors, and airmen that lost their lives over that one, horrendous day. May we, our children, and our children's children never forget where we've been, where we've come from, and what He's brought us through. God bless those who have fallen and their families, and God bless America, land of the free because of the brave. 

When I Was A Boy...

I distinctly remember one of my mom's friends telling my mom that I would grow up to be a heartbreaker...








I didn't think it would have been my own.











-written 041408-

A Rose Without Thorns

You never really realize what you have until it's gone. Unless you did realize it from the beginning. Then this cliche is worse than others.

When we broke up, we both wished each other well, and said that we hoped that each other would find happiness. I don't particularly remember if, in my heart, I meant it. I'd like to think that I did, and would like everyone to believe that I was mature in handling the situation. Truth is, I'm not so sure. 


This past week she found someone else. When it popped up on my news feed, I literally stopped breathing for about 13 seconds. My heart skipped a few beats. I felt betrayed and hurt; then I reminded myself of my current standing with this particular female: EX-boyfriend. I'm an "ex" for a reason. After reminding myself, I proceeded to chastise myself. Why shouldn't I be happy for her? All my ex's now have different boyfriends, and I don't feel any astringency towards them, why should this be any different? 


This much I can honestly say: I know that I want to be happy for her. Despite spending the next hour and a half doing background checks on her new guy (yeah, that seemed a bit much even to me, but I needed to know. And I'll never readily admit it to her), I'm really gonna try to let it go. To let her go. Like I've been trying for the past 14 months :/ *sigh* It's gotta happen eventually. I thought I had completely conquered this a month or so ago, but... apparently not. 


I guess I never had the separation time from her like I did all my other ex's. The point where you don't talk, un-friend each other on facebook, and try to avoid all forms of communication. I don't think I ever reached that point because there was nothing I wanted to run from. No decisions I regretted, no skeleton that I had to run from. 


Upon reflecting and trying to psycho-analyze with a good friend of mine, I came to a number of conclusions that I, more or less, already knew of but had a hard time putting my finger on:


1.) We never did anything that I really regret, that's why I have a hard time going through the "hating" period that most breakups go through.
2.) I'm having a hard time with this not because she's happy, but because she's happy with someone else.
3.) Part of it is also that this pain and these memories have been a part of who I am for so long that I've let them define me. And I feel that if I let go them I'm letting go a part of me and I'll lose part of my edge; part of what makes me, me. Then I'll just be normal.
4.) I'm scared that if/when I do find someone that I'll constantly be comparing them to a memory that they can never live up to because it's a doctored memory; I know it had to have happened differently from how I remember, but it's hard to change that.


There was a blog that I've read and quoted several times that still hits home to me. The following is another excerpt, quoted several times, and probably will be quoted several more. My thoughts are in the brackets.


"Why is it-- the faster you attempt to heal from something painful, the more frequently it tends to haunt you? When will the ghosts under the stairs give up and go home? Why can't I give them five bucks and the car keys and tell them to take the night off? [Love that quote.] If anyone knows the answer to these questions, please call me and we'll discuss the whole thing over bowls of crunch diamonds drenched in skim milk [actually 2%, I hate skim ;P]


She stopped by my house last Monday night at 10:30. Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion, yet it all happened so fast, I barely had time to think. [I called the meeting; she had no part in it. It was my fault, my idea, not hers.] A hundred trains of though raced through my heart, but my brain did nothing but turn over like a cold engine in January. I couldn't find the right words, I couldn't form complete sentences, I tried desperately but speech seemed ineffective and useless, like trying to carve a stone sculpture with a toothbrush. All I could do was stare into those eyes I knew so well.


We stood in the driveway, uncertain, unconfident, communicating more with eyes and body language than with words. Everything about her was beautiful. Her perfume was intoxicating. And then I stepped forward and hugged her for the last time... and I'd be a total liar if I said I wanted to let go. [I brought this on knowing full and well in advance that it wouldn't be easy] But I knew I had to. Perhaps THAT, dear friends, is the hardest part of saying goodbye to someone; knowing you MUST move on, even though every fiber of your being screams at you to obey your instincts to cling for dear life. Maybe that's why the mountaineer must grit his teeth, dig in his claws and continue the climb, no matter the cost, matter the odds, no matter the price. Every aching muscle screams at him to give up and go home but he MUST be strong, resilient, resolved and steadfast. It's funny how the word 'integrity' means nothing until you stare Anguish in the face and tell her sister Agony to beat it. The inescapable issue is the fact that I'll never be able to listen to Remember To Breathe by Dashboard Confessional [Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat] again without thinking about her. I suppose I can live with that..."


So... after taking 3 days to write and complete this, I now leave you with my closing thoughts. I can't just sit by and wait for the situation to get better, I have to take active steps. Starting with her. While I didn't delete her from my facebook account [yet] I've blocked her and a lot of those associated with her from my news feed indefinitely. And I'm sure as heck blocking her, her family and close friends from this entry lol. She has moved on and I have to accept the fact and do so as well. In the future, who knows? Maybe I can talk to her without being in excruciating pain. I've just recently started talking to my very first ex-girlfriend on a friendly basis and that was over... a lot of years ago lol.


I'll have to actively try to avoid certain things that revoke certain emotions like the smell of shea butter shampoo or going to Watauga Lake in August; I'll have to discard old photos and certain ties with certain memories. We had good times... but we had our share of bad as well. It's just harder for me to remember the bad... But. I have friends (and family) who will help give me the kick in the pants I sometimes need to move on. I can do this. I will do this. I must do this. Veni, vidi, vici. Vale amicorum.