I have been avoiding writing this for a week.  I start and stop and start again.  I know I have to write something.  I have to write something for my kids and grandchildren and those that follow after them.  I must also write it for myself.

I can't imagine what life was like a week ago.  I don't remember it, just like I don't remember life without my wife and kids.  Sure I know what I did and how my day-to-day life was, but I don't remember how it felt not to have that small, nagging knot in the pit of your stomach or that slight fear of what may come.  I don't remember how it felt to feel completely safe.  I hope it comes back to me in time.

We all know what we were doing when we found out about it.  I was sleeping.  My wife woke me up when she called from work.  I turned on the television just as the first tower collapsed.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  It couldn't happen.  Not here.

It was true, though.  The United States was under attack.  They had struck both towers at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  About ten minutes later we heard about another plane that had gone down near Pittsburgh.

My mind and heart raced as I struggled to comprehend just what was happening.  Was this the time to head to my grandparents as I had always planned to in the case of an attack on the US? (They live in the exact middle of nowhere and I figure that is as good a place to be as any.) Would there be any more attacks?  Would there be different kinds of attacks? 

My first thought was to my family.  I thought about picking up the boy from school and making his mom come home from work.  I thought about getting gasoline and groceries just in case we were asked or forced to stay inside for a significant amount of time.  I thought about how my two kids may never know the true meaning of the word safe.

I thought about all those in the towers and surrounding areas.  I thought about their families.

My two-month old daughter woke up hungry, just like she had the day before.  She had no idea that this day was different.  She never would. She would never know what it felt like to live without this hanging around the neck of her nation, just like my parents and the threat of nuclear war.

She ate and ate.  Then she smiled.

She has a bright smile with dimples and no teeth.  It's a smile that contains nothing but simple joy.  For a moment, I smiled too.  Her smiles have that power.

We dressed and did those things that I had mentioned earlier.  We went grocery shopping and bought gas.  Gas prices had not gone up.  I was pleasantly surprised.

I was cautious and wary of those around me, but I do not know what of.  I couldn't have told you who was behind the terror.  We all had ideas, but at 11 AM in Houston, there was no real idea who had done this.

We went back home and I sat and watched.  First CNN, then ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, anyone who could tell me what was going on.  They all had the same answers from the different talking heads:  We don't know.

Two hours later and my wife was home.  A big hug and then we sat and watched.  Staring in disbelief at what had happened and discussing what may happen.

She went to meet the boy at the bus stop.  We had decided to tell him something but we didn't know just what.  We ended up waiting until that next morning.  I dressed him in his American flag shirt and we told him about the planes hitting the buildings and that many people were hurt or had died.  He is only six so we decided to let him come to us with other questions when he was ready.  We had that discussion two days later.

He played as normal that day.  He had two friends over and you could hear them carrying on upstairs, playing pirate ship, as yet unaware of what had been taken from them earlier in the day.  The first time they came downstairs to get drinks I tried to change the channel so that they wouldn't get a look at the crashes.  I clicked and clicked and clicked on the remote, but could not get anything other than news about the attack.

I ended up turning off the TV while they were in the room.

My wife and I watched the rest of the evening, hoping with everyone else for good news about the many survivors.  It never happened.  The hospitals never filled up with the expected number of injured.  We had to face the facts.  They were all gone.

I held my son and daughter a little closer that night and have ever since, just to reassure them that they are safe.  Just to show them that they need not worry or think about things like what happened the morning of September 11, 2001.

Yes, I hold them a little tighter and a little longer and get those wonderful smiles.  Those smiles that seem to be trying to tell me everything will be all right.