Somehow it’s therapeutic to retell where we were when terrible events happened. I was home in Austin, Texas with little Paige and Daniel and a neighbor baby on the morning of September 11, 2001. As the news spread, another neighbor left her babies with me as she ran to the school to pick up her daughter. I gathered the five innocents on the little toddler bed in our school room and turned off the television that replayed events too terrible for them to see. I was grateful that our home was a safe haven for the children who were in my care that day. That evening I put on my Cub Scout uniform and spent time with the Cub Scouts, talking and listening, numb and sad, but feeling the pride of that American flag on the uniform. I have always felt grateful that I was surrounded by innocent children on that day.