It's hard to believe that 19 years ago we were in a different state of weird.
Both kids had assignments this morning to talk with us about what we remember about September 11. With each year, the strangeness of Air Force 1 flying over my house and military choppers being scrambled to my football field seems less bizarre. I guess the repeated telling has numbed that a bit. I still remember watching the second plane hit in real time, and I remember being completely unable to turn of the footage for days. We just kept watching--trying to understand.
As the years pass, though, what I remember most was that September 11 was a turning point for me. If I have to pick a single day when I became an adult, it was that one. My mentors didn't protect me from the reality that we didn't know what was happening or if we would be okay. I became the teacher who had to tell her students it was all okay, with a forced smile and an attempt to be normal because that was what they needed. I was 21.
Now, I spend my days working with kids that age. I watch them make those same transitions with different triggers. What has put a lump in my throat today, though, is realizing that Issa isn't that far away from that transition. She is already grappling with real world issues and asking critical questions. She's figuring our who she is and what she stands for. I love seeing that. But I pray with all my heart that she can't point to a day when tragedy struck and she felt like an adult. I pray that for all our kids.
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