"Why can't you celebrate your birthday with us?" asked my seven-year-old son. He had just learned I had to work as a journalist at the National Day celebrations.

"Will I be able to see you on TV?" "Probably," I replied, not wanting to further let him down. "But when you set your eyes on the parade on TV, you may forget to look for Mom," I said, joking with him.

In my mid-30s, I have a blurry memory of past National Day grand parades.

The most clear memory I have of the 60th anniversary 10 years ago are interviews with foreign diplomats in Beijing. I was a novice then, one year after my college graduation.

It's one thing to watch the parade on digital screens and another to be part of it, your neck craned for a better view, hands waving the national flag, cheering at the top of your voice.

Today I was in the western stands in front of the Tian'anmen Rostrum.

Most of the attendees around me were members of ethnic groups from all over the country. As they recorded moments with their phones, I saw beautiful smiles on their faces, and heard them say "I love you, zu guo (motherland)!" time and again.

The woman sat next to me, from Inner Mongolia autonomous region, broadcast the parade with her own commentary via WeChat to her family back home.

Today as I witnessed one of the greatest spectacles of our country seven decades after its foundation, I was struck by the grandeur of the parade and filled with pride in China's growing military strength, illustrated by marching People's Liberation Army soldiers.

I was also impressed by the ceremony that followed, participated in by people from all walks of life, including factory workers, farmers, students, and deliverymen. A total of 200,000 people joined the ceremony.

Leaving the square after the celebrations ended, I took a last look at what had been my seat for several hours. As I replayed all I'd seen in my mind's eye, I felt honor and pride, and thought that this day will live with me for the rest of my life.

It will be a day I'll tell my son all about.