Tuesday, September 11, 2012
You should display it somewhere.
Especially today. September 11. Do you remember?
Yesterday, I reminded my husband and son that this anniversary was upon us once again. My son said, "Yeah, I know, we talked about that at school." We quizzed him: did he really understand? "Yes," he said. "Our teacher said it was the day when there was a, um, an accident and people were hurt—"
My husband and I immediately jumped in. "Honey, we've talked about this. It was no accident. It was deliberate," I said.
"Yes," added my hubby. "It was an act of war."
"I know," said my son. "The people flew the planes. They flew them into the buildings."
We revisited that awful day in our minds, Todd and I. We re-explained to our son why one of the planes had landed in a field in Pennsylvania. We re-lived it, for a moment. The shock, the feelings, the dread that grew in my chest that day and will dwell there forever.
I will not forget. I will not let anyone misrepresent this day, not to me or my son or anyone. Listen to the roll call. All those names, all those lives. The ripples continue; the water's surface is not smooth.
The war goes on.