Friday, September 11, 2015

9/11 families, you are in our hearts.

Every year, I wake up on this day with a sense of dread, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I should keep my kids home from school  just in case. I run through the scenarios, decide our town is far too small to be targeted and pray that when I kiss my babies goodbye, it won't be our last. I will hold my breath all day, waiting and counting the minutes until I can pick them up and when I do, I will breathe out my sigh of relief and count this as another year where I chuckle at myself and chalk my fears up to paranoia.

I can't imagine the pain that parents felt at this very moment 14 years ago, when they realized that their babies weren't safe. When wives and husbands stood in horror, mouths agape and hearts in their stomachs, as they waited to find out if their family had been destroyed and lives forever changed.

I want to feel like we're all safe. I wish we could have that feeling back again, that bliss of ignorance and the false sense of comfort that insulated our pre-9/11 world. Now we know that at any moment, at any time, something could happen again and the rug could get pulled out from under us. Terrorist attacks. School shootings. Highway snipers. Accidents. Tragedies. Destruction. And all we can do is pray.

Please, not my babies. Not my family. Not me. Please.

For the families who thought these very thoughts 14 years ago, you are heavily on my mind today. We, as a country, are so sorry for your pain. Please know that although we don't know who you lost or what your circumstances were, we are sitting in that pain with you today and holding you in our hearts.

And when I pick up my children today and breathe out, I will hug them extra tight and realize the gift that is having them arrive back home safely another year. I will thank all the Gods and all the stars that we are safe and I will cry tears of both relief and sadness for the necessity of these emotions, and all the thoughts that encompass this day. Today our country grieves together.

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