9/11...18 years later...

M and I stood in this monumental spot a few years ago...our perceptions of the moments spent there vastly different...to me, a heartbreaking reminder of a day that stole not only all of those lives, but also the innocence that collapsed with those towers...to her, a history lesson centered around something that happened before her time that while so important to the world around her, she thankfully has no personal connection to.

Year after year we post the reminders, so we never forget...the list of names and the breakdown of the numbers by civilians and flight crew and first responders - and we stop and think about where we each were in those moments that September morning...not physically, but emotionally, spiritually. The events of that day cracked us open, exposing our differences but, more importantly, our often underlying and ignored similarities. For a time we weren’t politically divided, we didn’t care about anything other than being united as Americans. The nonsensical things we typically allow to come between us didn’t matter for a time as we displayed flags and stood together in our homes, communities and government. It’s a shame that isn’t the same today...

Yes, I remember where I was that morning but my story doesn’t matter. What matters are the stories of those we lost and the ripple effects that horrific day has had on us. I struggle with the fact that to my daughter’s generation this anniversary means little other than a day that tends to choke her mom up and another lesson for them to read about in history class. I guess I should be happy that she doesn’t have a personal connection to it, but it’s also a reminder of how easily events turn into history lessons that we must continue to teach in order to prevent them from happening again.

I told her her last night that most of the time 9/11 feels like a long time ago, but this time of year - each year - it feels like it was just yesterday. I’ve been fortunate to visit Ground Zero twice - once just less than a year after the tragedy and again a few years ago. On that first visit, the hole was still there...the giant flag still hung from a neighboring building...the memorials still tucked into the wrought iron fence at the church across the street - and I remember feeling unworthy, like I didn’t deserve to be there because I didn’t lose anyone there that day....but then, I realized as an American, we all lost something that day and visiting the site is an honor. Never forget - words we have seen often in the months and years following...words those of us alive that day don’t need to hear, but so very important for the generations we are raising. The children born that year are now becoming adults...they are emerging as the first post-9/11 generation with a voice that will hopefully be used to not only remember the tragedy, but show how bright the human spirit can shine.

I truly think it doesn’t matter where we were that morning. What matters is where we are now - to not let those lost be lost in vain. To remember we are ALL Americans first and to focus on what unifies, rather than divides, us. Never forget that.