I think this day always leaves me a bit numb and reflective, stunned and shocked, still.
Twelve years ago today I was sitting on my bed in my master suite, holding my newborn daughter. My husband was in the shower. I had just showered moments before, a reprieve from nursing a newborn, still lethargic in my new mommy...again...state-of-being. He was going to the university a little late that morning, our lives just settling in with the boys recent return to school and me just being home a few days from the hospital.
"Whoa!" Shock. Called out to my husband who was getting dressed our master suite the kind with the bathroom open to the bedroom. Him still kinda wet taking the four feet from there to my side, both of us looking at The Today Show in disbelief.
The images are indelible in our mind. The news reporters were trying to figure out if it was some kind of crazy plane crash, normal television viewing interrupted for this breaking report.
Then, disbelief and a collective gasp.
A second plan.
Right into the Twin Towers.
Smoke, billowing clouds, me holding the newborn, my husband's massive frame standing in protection of the women in his life, disbelief.
We sat there, not sure if we should go get our three sons from their respective schools, should he go into the university? I was on maternity leave, called my colleague who was also the coordinator of my consulting projects. Disbelief.
The rest of that day was a blur, a daze of watching the news, holding the baby, holding the children, wondering what happened, planes going down in fields far away, fear gripping our collective hearts.
My daughter is twelve now. Fully involved in middle school as a sixth grader who is the fashion plate and smart girl, who plays instruments and has a diverse group of friends, my girl has grown up with 9/11 in the shadow of her existence. Her baby sister, born twenty months later, has never lived a day of her almost ten yeas of life without the United States being in a conflict in the Middle East.
I wasn't in New York or Pennsylvania. I know friends who have lost loved ones on 9/11 and in the resulting wars. I am the mom of a Navy Veteran who was barely thirteen when 9/11 happened, his birthday twin the babe in my arms back then.
Our collective lives are forever changed.
Have we changed for the better? Do we love more? Appreciate more?
Or do we still walk in the grip of fear holding tight the reins of our heart, causing us, the collective us, to fear anyone who is Muslim? Syria news ringing in the background, The President just speaking yesterday, the nation weary of war, my heart torn.
No, we will never forget, it is etched in the story of our life.
Twelve years ago today I was sitting on my bed in my master suite, holding my newborn daughter. My husband was in the shower. I had just showered moments before, a reprieve from nursing a newborn, still lethargic in my new mommy...again...state-of-being. He was going to the university a little late that morning, our lives just settling in with the boys recent return to school and me just being home a few days from the hospital.
"Whoa!" Shock. Called out to my husband who was getting dressed our master suite the kind with the bathroom open to the bedroom. Him still kinda wet taking the four feet from there to my side, both of us looking at The Today Show in disbelief.
The images are indelible in our mind. The news reporters were trying to figure out if it was some kind of crazy plane crash, normal television viewing interrupted for this breaking report.
Then, disbelief and a collective gasp.
A second plan.
Right into the Twin Towers.
Smoke, billowing clouds, me holding the newborn, my husband's massive frame standing in protection of the women in his life, disbelief.
We sat there, not sure if we should go get our three sons from their respective schools, should he go into the university? I was on maternity leave, called my colleague who was also the coordinator of my consulting projects. Disbelief.
The rest of that day was a blur, a daze of watching the news, holding the baby, holding the children, wondering what happened, planes going down in fields far away, fear gripping our collective hearts.
My daughter is twelve now. Fully involved in middle school as a sixth grader who is the fashion plate and smart girl, who plays instruments and has a diverse group of friends, my girl has grown up with 9/11 in the shadow of her existence. Her baby sister, born twenty months later, has never lived a day of her almost ten yeas of life without the United States being in a conflict in the Middle East.
I wasn't in New York or Pennsylvania. I know friends who have lost loved ones on 9/11 and in the resulting wars. I am the mom of a Navy Veteran who was barely thirteen when 9/11 happened, his birthday twin the babe in my arms back then.
Our collective lives are forever changed.
Have we changed for the better? Do we love more? Appreciate more?
Or do we still walk in the grip of fear holding tight the reins of our heart, causing us, the collective us, to fear anyone who is Muslim? Syria news ringing in the background, The President just speaking yesterday, the nation weary of war, my heart torn.
No, we will never forget, it is etched in the story of our life.
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