Fifteen years ago, the world changed. Hate broke through, grabbing headlines, stealing lives, and conquering certain freedoms.
But it never overcame hope.
I didn’t lose anybody that day, but my life has been plagued by anguish because of it. When I began writing this post, I considering going into a long-winded diatribe, trying to describe the pain, the pride… the American heart.
But I can’t. What I have to say is not eloquent or ground-breaking. It isn’t special, and it isn’t even grammatically correct.
Instead, I will let my fragmented emotions speak for themselves.
I am proud to be an American. I am honored to have loved a true patriot and blessed to love another still, even if that patriotism serves as a great divide.
I hope for safety. I hope for life. I hope for a day when every man woman and child on this earth can safely walk down any street of their choosing, without fear.
I long for the day we break free of fear.
Until then, I support the fight against terrorists. I root for the heroes, from every walk of life, that risk themselves to make the world a little brighter.
I am in awe of those who move forward.
Fifteen years ago, America changed. The world changed.
Fifteen years after that fateful day, I mourn the loss of those who died. I thank those who continue to risk their lives to this day. I worry over those who will risk it one day.
Fifteen years from now, the world will look back, and the sentiment will be the same.
We will never forget, and Fear?
You will never win.