Remembering...

Has it already been six years since that morning when a phone call from my mother prompted me to turn on the news, since that morning when everything stopped as we watched, riveted...horrified...?

I remember the shock.

I remember the fear: for my country most of all, but also the fear that many of us mothers of teenage boys felt on that day --- or any day when war threatens.

In the days, weeks, and months that followed, I was surprised at the intensity of my feelings of patriotism and sense of solidarity with my fellow Americans. As someone who was raised bi-cultural and who often felt out of step with other Americans, this was a new awakening for me.

I remember driving "down south" (southern California) on a weekend soon after September 11 and seeing people with American flags on just about every freeway overpass. I had never experienced anything like this.

I remember praying, as I have often done before, that my mother would be spared having to experience another war raging around her home.

I remember the tears.

So much...so much to remember.