Remember.

On this day, every year, my glorious best friends check in with me. They tell me they are thinking about me, and that they love me. And I love them, so so much. I am not sure I say it enough. Like I told Grace just this morning: I LOVE YOU. IN ALL CAPS. That much, y'all. That much.

And I love you, Internet, and I love you, life. I love my life. I love my husband, and my friends, and my family, and Oprah, and the Black-Eyed Peas, and Oprah's 24th season kick-off, because it made me cry this morning, guys, in that way I do during curtain calls on Broadway. My heart swells and my eyes fill and I am just so happy for us all.

And really, I can't ask for anything more than that.

I've written about it here and here and here and here and here.

But it's not about me today. (Really? the Internet asks, rolling its collective eyes at the drama queen.)

Not about me. It's about all of those who lost their lives; it's about what that day taught us collectively as a nation. It's about how we are still learning. (Because this morning someone posted on their Facebook status that they were so sad, and pissed! They want to kill all Arabs!)

Facebook friend? I think you totally missed the point.

Last night I told J that I'd like to stop in Shanksville on the way home from Penn State in a few weeks. He wasn't too receptive, but I think he'll come around. You go to honor. Those doomed passengers on Flight 93 - those heroes - deserve to be honored and commemorated. So we'll go, and I'll cry, and I'll thank them. We need to make that pilgrimage.

That day - and the post-traumatic stress aftermath - taught me so much. It taught me that despite all of the horror surrounding us, people are good. We're resilient. We're malleable.

I cherish every day, every moment. And when I don't? When I get all petulant and bratty and call J screaming that I am lost in Pittsburgh, holy shit you must help me this is the worst day of my life?

Then, eventually, I am brought back to reality. A reality in which I am lucky, and so so blessed.

I can't believe how far I've come in 8 years. I said as much to Grace this morning, adding "Though I'd like to get rid of my stupid fear of flying, I suppose that's just a scar I wear to keep me humble."

That's the first time I have ever thought of it that way. A scar. It is one that I am proud to bear.

So I hope everyone is great today. I hope we all take the time to remember, but also to be thankful. For whatever reason, we are all still here. And that's reason enough to celebrate.