Missiles With Wings

There are three stages of the truth. One, it is denied or even ridiculed. Two, it is opposed. Third, it is self-evident. If you are/were old enough to know, then there is no doubt, you know exactly the mark of this day. The mark is imprinted in your mind. And, as long as you are of sound mind and body, you will continue to remember this date. What you were doing in that instant. What your thoughts and fears were in that moment. Where you were. Who you were with. Whether you listening to it via radio or watched it unfold on television. It was the stoppage of time, irregardless of the sand passage through the hourglass.

It wasn't until my second child returned home from school today that I decided to blog about the day of September 11th 2001. He asked me if I would allow him to watch on YouTube the videos of the planes hitting the towers. This is the first year that he actually heard the testimonies of the victims families on video and audio, saw pictures of the people that would never come home and shockingly watched the footage of those people who voluntarily jumped out of those buildings holding hands to their deaths. He had learned about it in school on previous anniversaries and knew about that day, but not to this degree. It is sad and unfortunate...this child has never known a country that was not at war.

He wasn't even 2 months old at the time, on that day. My mother was staying with me at the time. She came into the bedroom where myself and Benny Kyle (my now 11 year old) were napping that morning. She was crying and said, "Kelly, I think something is very wrong, a commercial airplane just hit one of the Twin Towers in NYC." I immediately walked into the television room, and it wasn't long after I sat down that the next Boeing hit the second tower. I remember how scary it was and wondering if I should go to the elementary school and get my oldest child. I had never seen in my life those happenings and was not sure what was going to happen next.

So, I wanted to share some of the things with you that my young son shared with me upon returning from school today. He told me about the wing-span of those airplanes, explained that when they hit the buildings and the ground in Pennsylvania, they were similar to missiles but with wings. He told me about the calls that were made from the plane. He showed me some of the faces that lost their lives on that day, some I remembered...some I did not recall. He spoke of all those babies, yet to be born, that never had a chance to meet their daddies. But after telling me about the terrorists, he closed with something much greater than the attackers hate for us. He said, "Mama, there's going to be a new tower called, The Freedom Tower, did you know that?" I pretended not to so he could tell me all about it.

How fitting, freedom. Freedom from the ashes where a new building emerges and takes shape. A symbol of something that so many of us in this country takes for granted. I was reminded of all the courageous and selfless acts that took place on that day and the days that followed. A lecture that served as a reminder, from my living room classroom, from not a professor...but from an 11 year old boy.