I was a freshman in college, my first full week of classes at Ohio University. I had just moved into the dorms a week earlier, leaving my family and friends behind, almost five hours from home. I got back from my Poli Sci class to my roommate watching it all unfold on TV. Honestly, beyond that, the only other things I remember is my mom calling me crying, wanting me to come home and my dad being suspiciously quiet on the phone that night. I remember prayer vigils that night and throughout the rest of the week and then everything went back to normal.
It wasn't until many years later, after I had kids of my own that the full impact of 9/11 hit me. I remember two years ago, on the 10 year anniversary, pregnant with Gavin, teeter-tottering between agonizing over how I could bring another life into a horrible, broken world and touched by the humanness that shown through that awful day, the day after and in different moments since then. Every year, I grieve with those who lost loved ones, think about the survivors and pray for the true heroes...firefighters, police offices, soldiers. The ones who deserve our thanks every day of the year, not just on Patriots Day.
I decided to start a new tradition this year. Liesl colored several pictures, very carefully wrote her name and asked me how to spell "thank you". Seeing her childish scribbles spell out such a powerful message broke me. I wish we could all speak compliments, kind words and gratefulness from our heart so easily and without pretense.
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I want to teach them to never forget.
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