scribblechic

I have written this date for as long as I could write.  Initially, I wrote it with the innocence of a child, proudly staking claim.  It has become a date I share with strangers.  My birthday a day of remembrance.

On the morning of September 11, 2001 I was watching the news as tragedy unfolded, sending ripples of shock, fear, and uncertainty across our nation.  Like so many, I followed the news closely trying to grasp the reality of the moment. Horrific scenes of violence and destruction seemed borrowed from a Hollywood production, too far outside the realm of possibility to be real.  The news brought the devastation into our living rooms, our homes made uncomfortable as we stood in witness of the unimaginable horror of hatred.

My mother waited to hear from her brothers; one worked near the World Trade Center and another’s wife worked near the Pentagon. My In-Laws waited anxiously for word from my brother-in-law living in Manhattan.  We all waited helplessly in a place of paused uncertainty for reassurance*.

That evening my In-Laws arrived to babysit, my husband had planned a special evening out weeks in advance.  The tone of the day was dark and attempts to celebrate felt forced and inappropriate.  My husband trying to carve out a moment for us amidst a day that drowned joy with grief, toasted my birthday.  I was sharing a moment with my husband that countless others would never again know.  I could not be joyful, but I could not discard my blessings.

On a day of immeasurable loss, my blessings are countless.  I have no doubt that each of the souls lost on the morning of September 11, given the opportunity, would live fully unbound by fear and mindful of each moment.  On this day each year I think not of dwelling in a place of sorrow, but of living gratefully for the moment I am blessed to have.

*After a long day of waiting to hear from loved ones, I am happy to share they were all safe.