Today is a Disney-only day. We’re having a Charlie and Lola marathon (is it too embarrassing to admit I love that show as much as her?) rather than allow any other channels to broadcast on my television. I don’t need the reminders. I don’t need the memorial tributes.

I definitely don’t need to see those planes fly into the towers yet again to see it clearly in my head. I remember it all vividly. But what I choose to remember most is how everyone came together. I remember the initial shock that it was anything other than a terribly tragic accident.

I remember the feeling of helplessness, wishing there were something—anything—I could do. I remember dashing around the house, emptying pantries, filling boxes, and stuffing bags once I found out a location nearby was collecting items for affected families.

I remember the tears in my little one’s eyes when we were done unloading the car—because she wasn’t done helping. I remember the elation she felt when I told her she could gather up any money in the car and donate it too.

I remember the normally intense homecoming float competition at my high school being abandoned. I remember the United We Stand float the classes created together, donating the remaining funds to the 9/11 families.

I am sad today, like everyone else. I am sad for the thousands of lives that were lost and the thousands more that were changed that day. For the lost feeling of safety since we all realized it was intentional. For the exploitation of the victims and the feelings of 9/11 that some continue daily. For the fear-mongering, hatred, and vast separation those events created. For the last united stand.

For the end of freedom as we know it.