9/11

I was working on my math homework during study hall when a teacher hurried into the room and turned on the television. On the screen was the New York City skyline. The rest of the day we students shuffled between classes, only to take our seats and raise our eyes to the news. The horror.

After returning home from school that afternoon, I took Pogo out for her walk, as I always did. But moments in, my mom drove up beside me- she had been sent home early. It was a time to be with family.

She asked me how I was. The question surprised me, I hadn't thought about my feelings. I was still taking it in. With her prompting, I reflected, and found myself still very shocked, confused, looking for answers, and sad. Sad about the event, sad that people died.

But ten years later, I watch the images again and hear the stories of those who died and whose family died, I finally realize why my mother asked me how I felt. Because now I understand what she was feeling.

I could not grasp, as a teenager, the true depths of a loving relationship. I could not conceive the pain of losing a spouse. Nor fathom the unsoothable ache of losing a child. I did not yet have the ability to feel the impact of those loving relationships on the soul. But my mother knew. And she felt the devastation of thousands of wounded souls on that day.

Ten years later, I finally understand. As a wife and a mother, I understand. My heart can comprehend the hurt carried over a decade by so many. And with this enlarged empathy comes the realization that hate has devastating power.

But, more importantly, I think, I better understand the uniting force of love. And I am grateful for that understanding on this day.