Remembering.

I normally don’t dwell on events like this. In fact, I tend to shy away from them. At least publicly. But ten years after the horrific terrorist attacks on our nation, I am still brought to tears by the mere mention of the event. I haven’t experienced very much misfortune in my life; I’ve lived a pretty good one. September 11, 2001, remains etched in my memory as one of the most upsetting (to put it lightly) events I’ve ever experienced.

And I wasn’t even there. I can’t imagine. The people who went to work, dreading another 9-5, dreaming about returning to their families at the end of the day. The travelers who boarded a plane, weary with travel and anxious to return home.

It haunts me and it saddens me and I can barely watch any of the services or read stories about the event because time hasn’t made it any better. There are bad things that happen and then there are bad things that happen. Time doesn’t always make things easier. My heart goes out to everyone who lost a loved one on 9/11/2001. I think we all lost a little part of ourselves that day.

We’ve been bumming around a little today. Baby T watched, mesmerized, as men and women gathered in the memorial outside of the Pentagon, holding flowers. He wanted to know what they were holding, and he wanted to know who was singing. I told him it was a long story. I want to explain it to him soon, but maybe next year. For today, it was all I could do to hold it together and smile at his interest.