Eleven years ago, on this day, after picking up my daughter from school, she asked me this, “Where were you on 9/11?”
I answered her question with a question: Why are you asking?
Her response, “We’re learning about it in school.”
Fair enough.
I explained to her that I was asleep, and that her mother, who ALWAYS watched Mornings On 2, did not have the TV on. I said, “Your grammy called us, honey, and told us to turn on the TV.”
Each tower had been hit by a plane. Moments later we would witness both crumble to the ground.
Gone.
Twenty three years have passed, and the stories of courage in New York, at the Pentagon, and on Flight 93 still resonate.
Bingham. Beamer. Glick.
Heroes. Americans.
Combing through the images from that day is tough. Even tougher when the image is produced—like the one you see–by a child younger than my daughter. A picture worth a thousand words—colored in terror that took thousands of lives.
Today we pause to remember those for not only who they were, but for what they helped America become.
God bless.
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