Twenty

This morning we saddled horses in the dark.

Twenty years ago, Flight 11 would just be taking off, the first of the planes from that memorable day.

Forty six minutes later, Flight 11 hits the World Trade Center.

We’re still hauling up the mountain, preparing for a work day. We’re greeted by a beautiful sunrise even if it’s seen through a dirty window.

I remember that day. The sadness, the heartbreak, the fear of the unknown. I remember crying at work, wondering about the why…

Twenty years later, my scene is peaceful. Grazing cattle, mountain views, a brisk morning with a blue sky. Saddle leather creaks. Chukars flush in squeaky panic. Bravo trots beside Panama, eager for his day.

We three step through the sagebrush working our way up a small canyon. What a blessing to work, to ride, to live this life.

For all the people who died that day, we mourn you. But for all those unseen… those that ran towards those buildings, those who signed enlistment papers, those who searched, those who cleaned the rubble from New York streets, those that raised money and flew flags and handed out kindness and smiles… Those with the courage to continue the fight, thank you. We have had twenty years of peace on American soil. For mothers who wave goodbye to sons in uniform, to fathers whose little princess now wears camo… we are forever in your debt.

As I rode, the scent of horse and sagebrush and fall grass surround me. I turn in the saddle, double checking the steep sided draw behind me. Above, faint, barely visible, was a rainbow. It hadn’t rained, but the colors arced overhead. The light shown as through a million tears. I tried to watch until it faded into blue sky, Panama’s pace steady on the trail. I have many people to thank for the life I lead, and on anniversaries such as today, I am once again reminded that it includes those people not seen…

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Find me here!

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