Fifteen Years

It's been 15 years, but I am certain you know exactly where you were and what you were doing. I know I can.

It's hard for me to think about that day. My kids were still so young and, as far as real life goes, I was still fairly naive. Living in the Midwest tends to create a safety net that makes us a little disconnected with things that happen elsewhere in the world. We still wave at cars as we pass them on gravel roads. We know our neighbors - if not by name, at least by face. We still tend to leave doors unlocked sometimes and we trust that our kids know where they need to be when the streetlights come on at dusk. That day changed all that for everyone.

I can't tell you what it was like for people in Pennsylvania, Washington D.C., or New York City that day and I thank God that I can't. But for me, and I'm sure many others, it took away my sense of security. I locked doors again. I looked at people in public with scrutiny instead of recognition. I was more protective with my kids and where I allowed them to be - all the time, not just when it started getting dark. And I worried. Day. Night. While I slept. I worried. I still worry. As my youngest child is just weeks away from signing a contract with the U.S. Marines, I worry. With my oldest child living 700 miles away, I worry. I worry for my grandchildren who haven't even been conceived yet. I worry for friends living in big cities where this could potentially happen again. I worry. I worry. I worry.

In October 2014, my husband and I visited the 9/11 museum in New York. I'd been to Ground Zero at least twice before that, seeing it at varying stages of rebuilding and was profoundly affected each time. But to see, touch, hear, and even smell (yes, some scents never go away for those of us with empathic abilities) the relics and memorabilia from that fateful day was more than I could handle. I sat outside for quite a while after visiting the memorial and just cried. Grief? Sorrow? Pain? Survivors' guilt? A combination of it all? I can't go back there again, I do know that much. But I encourage everyone to visit it at least once in their life. 9/11 changed us all, but that museum will change you all over again in a completely different way.

As always, I honor those who lost their lives that day, as well as those who survived. I share your pain and my strength with you all.