Sunday, September 11, 2011

Ten years

Ten years ago, D and I had recently returned from a trip to Italy and Greece.

Ten years ago, D and I had recently purchased our second home, the one we are still in today.

Ten years ago, my parents sold my childhood home and moved into more spacious place.

Ten years ago, my baby brother got married.

Ten years ago, D and I still weren't sure if we wanted kids or not.

I was on my planning period when Michelle R, the French teacher across the hall, came into my room and told me a plane had just crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings.  I turned on the tv and stood transfixed.  I don't remember the timeline of what I saw next on the tv.  

I picked up the phone and called D.  His company happened to work on an airline system.  He told me there was an unaccounted for plane.  It was scary to know that something else devastating was going to happen.  This was the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania.

Like everyone, I watched television nonstop, and I cried nonstop, hearing the stories of survivors, of family members who received phone calls from their loved ones.  At the time I used to listen to Bob & Tom in the mornings on my way to work.  There is a new world order when Bob & Tom and Chick McGee are somber.

Days or maybe a couple weeks after the plans crashed and the buildings collapsed, D and I were taking a walk through our neighborhood.  I remember it was cool, well into autumn.  We were talking about family, and while I don't remember the specifics, I always think of that walk as the time when he and I decided that we did want to start a family after our 5-year "childless period of fun."

September 11 made me realize that I did want a family of my own.

Ten years later, I am so thankful for D and my 3 children.
My family is the phoenix that rose from those ashes.  

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