Ten years ago, I couldn't walk away from the TV. Today, it's just as hard. But on top of my own thoughts, feelings, memories of that fateful day in American history, I now have a 10-year-old who is now understanding exactly what happened.
They say that history can define us. History teaches us lessons. History explains where we were and where we're going. For my daughter, history is boring. History is old. History is...well...history.
Holding her, only about 1 1/2 months old, that September day, I honestly wondered what kind of world did I bring her into. This was nothing I'd had to live with...and now I wondered if this would be the norm for her life.
Choosing to allow her to live her life as "normally" as mine was, we shielded her from the worst of the news over the years. National, world, local... 9-11 came and went with our memories, but to her, it was just the day between 9-10 and 9-12.
Today she asked to watch a documentary on 9-11 -- real people's accounts of the minutes from the first plane crashing into the World Trade Centers until both fell. We talked about what happened, we talked about why, but we focused on the survivors, the heroes who both lived and died to save a whole lot more people than we thought could be possible 10 years ago. The many miracles that happened that day amid the tragedy.
We talked about this being the why her Uncle Craig is in Afghanistan.
God Bless the innocent children. As I sat shaking watching the TV today, remembering holding her that day, she'd ask a question or make a comment that you just couldn't help smiling about.
To her, yes, she knew this was real, this did happen, this wasn't a movie, but it was only as real as, say, the attack on Pearl Harbor is to me.
This is her history.
This year's employee appreciation cookout at my company honored those who died on 9-11.
God Bless America.
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