where wildly different is perfectly normal
Fourteen years later
Fourteen years later

Fourteen years later

How fortunate I am today, that my biggest fear is that I’m wasting my life, that I have a chronic case of just standard existential confusion. How fortunate I am that the child who wouldn’t sleep for love or money 14 years ago now requires threats and bribes and klaxon horns to rouse in the morning. How fortunate am I that my family is safe and healthy and well fed.

How fortunate so many of us are today, 14 years after our world was shattered.

Every year on this date I am quiet and introspective and every year on this date I am extraordinarily grateful we only had a five month old infant. Granted, that five month old infant didn’t sleep much and certainly added to the stress of that day, but I didn’t have to explain that level of hatred and evil to an intensely sensitive kid while barely able to cope myself. I used to quip that I didn’t know which one I didn’t want to explain first, Santa, sex, or 9/11. We’ve made it through all three with both boys, though I do have to throw a little credit to Star Talk for providing some of the details of the first two.

This morning J mentioned over breakfast that he expected that social studies would be about 9/11 today. I would certainly hope so. I consider it current events, even though it will always be just history to him. It’s still painful to think about, and today I’m avoiding news channels more than usual. I’ve gotten more sensitive and emotional lately and I really don’t need to pick at that scab.

It has stopped raining and the sun is peeking out from behind the departing clouds. I can go hang the flag now.

But first I have some threats and bribes and klaxon horns to dole out.

Whaddya think?

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