I'll never forget that feeling of dispair. Of utter disbelief. Of helplessness. Of shock and loss. Emma Jo and I were getting ready for work, watching the news on that morning 8 years ago. We were going about our everyday business when the unthinkable happened. An airplane hit the tower of the World Trade Center. I stood in silence staring at the TV. It had to have been an accident. Who would have done this? How could it have happened. Then the second plane hit. I reached for Emma Jo and held tight. I didn't know what was happening but I was sure glad that she was with me. The rest of the day passed in a blurr. We went to daycare and work. It seemed selfish to stay home and stare at the tv. I bought a clock radio so that I could listen to the news at my desk. I called my family and verified that everyone was okay. I wanted to help. I wanted to make it better. There wasn't anyway to make it better and I felt helpless. I prayed. I prayed for our country. I prayed for the families that lost their loved ones. I prayed that this would never happen again. I rejoiced to see a country united. I was proud to be an American.