It's 9/11 once again.
And once again we remember, we cry, we try to explain...
In my house, I'm actually the only one who really remembers. My kids are all too young-- not only did it happen before they were born, but they're young enough it's not something we've talked a lot about-- and my husband was actually out of the country on an LDS mission when it happened. So not only was he not here (which makes a huge difference) he was also a missionary (not really a lot of tv watching) and 9/11 was right around the time he became ill-- ill enough to be hospitalized in Argentina, honorably released from his mission, and sent home within a couple of months. His main experience with 9/11 was how awful it was to fly back to the US just months afterward.
It's a little weird feeling like you're the only one who remembers.
But it's not just that-- 9/11/2001 was the last birthday my grandma celebrated before she died (in October) followed by my other grandma in December. It was a rough few months... a rough school year.
BUT (and I've posted this picture book every year I think) like the kids who wrote September 12th We Knew Everything Would Be All Right... I know everything is all right.
My kids are healthy (for the most part, lol) and happy. Life is good.
Oh, and this little bundle of sweetness is a month old today:
But we also remember that the sun came up the next day... and everything will be all right.