I had a random post planned for today and then I got a weekly email from one of my daughter’s teachers where she keeps parents in the loop with assignments, test dates and discussions. This is much appreciated, as pulling such info from a 13 year old is quite a chore. I can barely get her to say, “Good morning.”
This sentence of the teacher’s email stopped my post-writing in its tracks: I will also use some religion and social studies time…to talk about 9/11. I am entering those years where none of the students have any memory of something that was so lifechanging for all of us.
It’s hard to believe that a day so crisp in my memory, is not even a glimmer in the child’s with whom I spent that fateful day. I’ve told my daughter the story over and over; how she was watching Barney, my husband called, we went to the library, they sent everyone home, I watched the south tower fall and fell to my knees, then watched both towers fall over and over and over until it was all I could dream about that night. I’ve told her about the beautiful blue sky and the quiet. It was so quiet. It’s odd that among the terror and chaos, what stands out to me is the silence and stillness of that day.
But, she doesn’t remember because she wasn’t even three years old and part of me is very glad about that.
I will keep remembering for both of us.