9/11 Reflection

It’s hard to believe that it’s been seven years since our country sustained the worst terrorist attack it has ever seen. My precious children were babies then, just two and four years of age. As a mother, it was the first time I ever questioned my decision to bring them into the world. I wondered in those desperate moments, What have I done? What kind of future are they going to have? How can I protect them?


The room slanted and I ran outside, screaming, only to realize that my words never made it outside of my body. I fell to the ground, pounding the earth with my hands, ripping up splintered pieces of grass. When my wails finally erupted, I didn’t recognize the sound of my own crying.

Today, whenever I see a flag, I am reminded of the one that flew at Ground Zero. I am reminded of the people who died that day and the ones who were left behind to mourn them. I am reminded of the men and women who selflessly worked to rescue those who survived or find the remains of those who didn’t. I am reminded of bravery, unity, humanity, and compassion. I am reminded that I am an American.


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