I left the house around 8:35am, September 11, 2008.  I had to stop by the Post Office in our small Kentucky town of Catlettsburg (pop.2000) before going to work in nearby Ashland.  Like the previous six years, I spent the morning thinking of those I associate with that incredible day.  I thought of JB Miller, the radio dj that announced to our office that "Our nation is under attack!"  I thought of Kym York-Blake, the co-worker that fell to her knees with me beside my desk to pray for our nation. And I think of Firefighter and Chaplain Jeff Johnson who taught me so much about what it was really like at ground zero.  I thought of how the only services honoring these events were miles away and how alone I felt in remembering.  I pulled in to the Post Office parking lot at 8:46.  JB, still on the radio, began playing a fantastic version of America The Beautiful, I noticed the flag at half staff, and just sat in my car and cried.  I cried for all those hurting today, all those that hurt that day, and for the changes that day made in our lives.  Then the song ended. I dried my eyes, reapplied my make up and headed in the post office where business was brisk, as usual.