Twelve years and almost five hours ago, I was on 295 South en route to work when the radio show was interrupted saying there had been a terrible accident and a plane hit one of the Twin Towers. Of course minutes later, the second one was hit and our cushy American existence was shaken.
While people in my mother’s generation remember where they were when they learned JFK or MLK were assassinated, for me it is 9/11. I remember frantically sprinting into my office in heels with everyone wondering What the hell?!? I remember all of the hours of horrible footage that we watched and the surreal feeling. My daughter was four and I remember thinking there were mothers around the world who repeatedly have to explain these inexplicable events to their children, or to themselves because their children were victims. I also remember my daughter’s questions.
This morning, a moment of silence was recognized for the tender ache that we collectively own alongside those who experienced it first-hand.
I’d love to hear from you…Where were you and what was your lesson?
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