My heart is full today for two very different groups of people: everyone who lost someone 14 years ago today; and everyone celebrating a birthday, an anniversary, a victory, or some other milestone today. I guess there might even be people who fall into both groups, which must make today very challenging.
Like everyone, I know where I was and what I was doing when the planes hit the World Trade Center: coloring with sidewalk chalk outside my house on a brilliant fall day with my toddler. When my then-husband pulled up in his car and shouted that a plane had flown into one of the towers, I actually laughed, because I thought for some weird reason I couldn’t fathom that he was joking. Even watching the second tower come down live on television was surreal. For weeks and weeks afterward, my son built towers out of everything he could think of–and knocked them down, repeatedly. I don’t think he understood what had happened, but he knew that it had gotten a big reaction from mom and dad and was processing it in his own way.