I remember. Never forget.

I was at work in an Omaha daycare when I heard the news.  I still remember exactly where I was standing, between the cubbies with the children's belongings and one of the diaper changing counters (our age group was 12-18 months).  Our room leader's husband called to tell us an airplane had struck one of the Twin Towers.  We thought he was pulling a very bad joke until he urged us to turn on the radio.  Angie turned on the radio and we listened in shock to the news; it was all too-true.  Word spread down the hallway and across the building quickly.  Soon the administrators came in to tell us that the only room allowed to have the radio on was the infant room, in case the news or our reactions to it would upset the children.  It became the job of the helpers in the infant room to run down the hall occasionally to give everyone updates.  It was a day spent in shock, grief, and quiet whispers, trying to keep things normal for the children as the news poured in.  All the lives lost, the shock that it could happen here, the fear and the rumors to be sorted out from the horror and the facts. 

I remember.  Never forget, 9/11/2001.