Isn't what matters most that we all remember? That we remember not just the drama and the tallies of lives lost, but the individual moments and people. And the efforts by those who love them to create lasting temples to their memory.
It was around 7 a.m., and being seriously upset, I did what most girls would do and called my Mom for comfort. After listening to me cry for a few minutes, she interrupted me and told me to turn the TV on, that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center.
As the pervasiveness of Internet connectivity grows internationally, the Earth becomes more of a neighborhood where everyone knows everyone else's business. And that gives me hope. Much like the densely populated streets of New York City, people can find a way to live with one another.
One of the Twin Towers was on fire. The headline across the screen read World Trade Center Disaster. Then, CNN reported that it wasn't a fire but a plane that had crashed into the tower. We collectively sucked in the air on our own plane. What was happening?
We need to work together to create a world where we can send our children out with confidence that they will return back to us safe at the end of each day.
My first memory of 9/11/01 is that it was a gorgeous, late summer day in New York. We had been in our new home just a few weeks, and everything still had a new scent to it. The paint was fresh and the walls were clean and waiting to be adorned with pictures and decorations.
I am thoroughly convinced that my generation is rightly positioned to make a significant difference for the better within our world. We are a generation proven, tested, and committed to needed change.
They were everywhere, because the people were nowhere. The city, as any creature would, eventually healed. The pulse thrummed again. The streets rushed again. But the fluttering, The Missing, they stay with me.