How will we tell them?

It was a sunny, warm September day.  I was newly married and on my way to a job in downtown St. Paul.  Just as I passed over Highway 36 on 35E, the dj's on the local pop radio station broke into what they were jabbering about.  "A plane just flew into the World Trade Center."
Post 9/11 Manhatten
I drove the rest of the way into work, with my mouth hanging open in disbelief.  I'd get to work and all day we'd be riveted to the small black and white t.v. at our office.  We'd constantly be hitting refresh on our computers to learn more about what had happened.

I remember the details of that day so clearly.  From calling my Mom because the comfort of hearing her voice made the world seem a little more sane, to heading over to my mother-in-laws house to spend the evening because my father-in-law was traveling (out east) on business.

I will never forget September 11, 2001.  

But my children weren't even a glimmer in our eyes at that point.

I pray that as a nation we keep the memory of that day alive.

Four months earlier, as we returned from our honeymoon, my husband's parents and grandpa met us at the gate at the airport.  Who'd have thought this would be the first AND last time I'd take a photo right after emerging from plane.

Now the hugs and loving reunions occur after baggage claim, liquids in carry-ons are limited and passports are required to travel to Canada.  Among other things. 

Because of one day.  One tragic event that would change our hearts and souls forever.  It would remind us of the fragility of life.

Lets not forget that today.  Maybe hug your kids a little harder, give your husband {or wife} an extra kiss.

And never forget.  

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