Tomorrow, I'm going to be thinking of the 2985 people who lost their lives on 9/11. It's hard to believe it's been eight years; I was headed into New York City that day by ferry and saw both towers burning. They are still hauntingly vivid in my mind. I can still also picture the "Missing" fliers hanging everywhere—on walls, poles, store windows, bulletin boards, any empty stretch of space. As the weeks passed, they faded and crumbled, along with the remaining hopes of the desperate parents and family who'd posted them.
I was grateful back then that I hadn't yet had children, so I could mourn and cry freely at home. When the kids are old enough, I am going to talk with them about that day. But they're still little so tonight, I am saying a prayer for those innocent lost souls and then kissing and kissing my sleeping Max and Sabrina.
Photo by Hilari
