I hate this day every year since September 11, 2001.
What a buzz kill.
Really, that was the day my generation lost our innocence.
That was the day we realized we were hated by others in the world simply for being Americans.
(and we do think we are better and we do have a sense of entitlement)
That was the day so many children lost their parents.
Wives lost husbands.
Husbands lost wives.
We lost rescue workers.
On that day, people on airplanes realized they were going to die and bonded together in their fate to attack the hijackers and make the plane go down rather than let it hit the terrorist’s mark. I hope I would be that selfless in the face of death. The thought that I would know death is coming terrifies me.
Heroes were made that day.
But there was so much loss. So much loss.
Of course everyone remembers what they were doing. I was 6 months pregnant with Jumping Bean. My car had died the day before on the expressway and when I got the news a few hours later that the repairs were going to be about $4000, all I could do was cry. I cried all day on the 10th. Pregnant, about to go on maternity leave and we did not have the spare 4K to fix the car. Plus you know how when you are pregnant you just cry anyway. I was going in late the morning of the 11th because I had a group session that evening and wouldn’t be home until about 9. I was still in bed watching TV as Stanley kissed me on the head and told me he didn’t want me to cry that day since I had cried so much the day before. I will always remember that, him saying, “Don’t cry today, no tears”. Maybe 10 minutes later I saw the footage of the plane hitting the tower.
I’m not putting pictures of the day on the blog. I just don’t want to.
Loss.
Nothing else to say.
Just loss.
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