This Day

September 11, 2015

This morning I found myself explaining September 11 to my Drew. He is 10.

He had vague notions of this horrible day, but as we prepared for school, we watched the day's events unfold in real time on MSNBC. We tuned in just after the first plane hit, and Drew watched as the second plane flew into the neighboring Tower. We had to leave for school, but I relayed the rest to him in pieces.

I have guided students through analyses of terrorism and the governmental and subsequent military actions in its wake. I watched--as did the nation--as this day happened. But answering Drew's simple questions, "what are terrorists? Why would they DO that? Where were they from? Did we find them?" made my heart and head choose my words carefully. But I answered every question. And when I told him a SEAL team had finally found Bin Laden and killed him, he said, "good."

His 10-year-old eyes never left the screen, just as ours didn't 14 years ago. It is as inconceivable now as it was then.

My last year of teaching was the first year I had students with no memory of 9/11. Grace was two months old at the time, and I remember looking at her and knowing American life would never be the same, and she would never know the country of my childhood.

I know the enormity of today resonates with us all in different ways and at variously levels of pain and understanding. I didn't lose anyone on that day; and for those who did, 9/11 is a mass of pain far out of the depth our collective grief.

Here is the thing: the conflict and acrimony and hopelessness that feel palpable in politics and in any difference of opinion these days are heartbreaking. On this day, be it ever so briefly, maybe it lifts. Maybe we can rise above all that divides us while we grieve, even for a day.