A Day Late.

I was one of the lucky ones 6 years ago. I didn't know anyone on the planes (a mighty miracle made my father switch flights that morning, so that he was not on one of those planes), and none of the people I loved were in Manhatten that day. I watched the second building collpase live in the student lounge at my university. I started crying, I could not stop. This is what war would look like.

I have tried to explain to my in-laws what it meant to be an American that day. (They are English-Australians.) That for all these years I have taken it for granted that we would be safe here, that even as I marched in protests, and wrote letters, and put aggressive anti-gun bumper stickers on my car, that I appreciated being an American. Not enough to hang a flag or anything, but enough to understand that my liberties are protected. On September 11 everything changed. We were no longer safe, we were no longer going to be OK just because we are America.

I hate that this President and his administration have manipulated the events of that tragic day, and have created and maintained a climate of fear in this country. They have taken our fears and made them much bigger.

However, the fear is real. All those people who didn't make it home that day, all those people who walked miles to get out of the dust and back to their scared families. All those people, we are all the same. I have a son now, and we will have more children one day, what kind of Americans will they be? There is no net to catch us anymore.