September 11

I don’t know if I’ve written about this before – I may have – but meh – it’s another year.  (How’s THAT for a run-on sentence?)

I think back 13 years to September 11.   I was heavily pregnant – my son would be born 16 days later.  I was already on maternity leave and watching the news in the morning, having gotten up with my older kids.

Everyone else was sleeping.

I watched as the plane hit the first tower.   I called my mother, who then said it was a hoax.   I woke my husband.

I watched the second plane hit the next tower.

And while I was horrified by what I saw – I had no understanding of what I was really seeing.

All the people who were dying?   They left someone behind.

A spouse.

A child.

A parent.

A sibling.


I had no understanding of what that meant.   My parents were both alive.  My husband’s mom was still alive and I wasn’t around when his Dad died.  My husband was still alive.

I had never experienced loss.   I was young, naive and it was all a theoretical exercise of “oh that’s awful”

And today, 13 years later, I get it.

I understand what it’s like for those left behind.   I understand how devastating it is to have your life turned upside down in an instant.

Today, I remember.