I woke up this morning, as I usually do, feeling groggy and tired, longing for just another hour to lay peacefully in slumber, before my duties as the mother of four required my full attention. I nursed, changed, sang to, and put Seth down for an early nap, helped the kids with breakfast, struggled with Benjamin to get on his shoes, finished making Lily and Liam's lunches then kissed them out the door to school, helped Ben write on his blog, took Ben to Trevor's house- in a flash flood- for a playdate, nursed seth, went to Washington Elementary for a meeting with the principal about Liam's teacher, nursed and put Seth down for another nap, made dinner for our family and put it in the crockpot to simmer, made an extra dinner to give to Lila, responded to my emails, cleaned up the kitchen, folded laundry, sang to, nursed and played with Seth, heated and ate lunch, nursed and put Seth down for his afternoon nap, got him up again, nursed, drove to pick-up the kids from their respective schools. While in front of Washington Elementary, I noticed the flag was flying at half-staff and questioned a friend as to why. I'd forgotten that it was September 11th. And at that moment I saw the worst nightmares of many of the loved ones of those whose lives were lost 6 years ago, coming to fruition: we are not as affected by the terror of that day- we are starting to not remember. The sting isn't as piercing and the fears we felt, for what seemed to be a long time after the fact, have subsided. In that, there is a certain sadness within me, an empathy for the heartache of those who still mourn- who still feel that loss- everyday.

Lily, Benjamin, and I, talked on the way home from our playdate, about the tragedy of 9/11- not in a morbid way, with details too grim for my childrens' ears, but in terms of honoring the memory of The Twin Towers, and the people left inside them when they fell, and how scary that day was for me, with Tom, their Dad, leaving on a business trip- completely out of contact with us for many hours after the attacks. Lily was three then, and while her life has changed so remarkably with age, she recalls my tears, my angst that morning. As a lover of New York City, she gets the loss-the void left by the absence of the those buildings, so remarkable in their architecture- so breathtaking in the skyline.

We drove past the fire department here in Mt. Lebanon and paused to notice the makeshift memorial they had put up in front of the building. And later, tonight, alone, I walked by there in the dark and took these pictures.




Life goes on- and I am so thankful for that. But I never want to forget how life became so sacred to me that day- how I knew instantly, what was truly important to me and felt the desperation of having to grasp it- the love I have for my husband- in all those hours he was stuck on the D.C. subway, unable to call home, or leave the city, I could think of nothing more than needing to be with him.