Post 9-11 thoughts
Over spring break 2010 hubby, our two girls, and I visited Lancaster County and then went on to New York City for a few days. It was the first time our girls had ever been to the city and it was quite a contrast to Amish country.
Among the places we visited was Ground Zero, in the midst of reconstruction. We were speechless.
This last Tuesday, youngest daughter asked me about 9-11. She was four when it happened. Newly adopted. Just learning English. In her first week of preschool. I spent the next months keeping her from seeing TV footage of that horrible day. I couldn’t explain it to her in Vietnamese. She couldn’t understand it in English.
I had a hard time explaining it to her this week, eleven years later, too. It was easier to explain how it had changed everything. Foreign policy. The economy. The lives of our dear friends, the Weisenburgs, whose son David was killed eight years ago today in Iraq. The lives of the McClimans, from Pennsylvania, whose son was in my hubby’s unit and killed in Afghanistan in April of 2011.
The life of our family, too, with hubby’s two mobilizations and one deployment, but not like so many others. I remember those people this week–those who have lost so much to war. We will always remember–and choke back the tears.