Out of all the fascinating stories to choose from in the September edition, the article they most wanted to read was the one about 9-11. Since they are only eleven and twelve years old, none of them were alive to witness the horrifying events, and a sort of morbid curiosity had taken hold of them. They innocently asked me if I remembered.
Remember? How could I forget?
How could I forget Mr. Mulberry calling from his office as I was getting the kids ready for school and urgently telling me NOT to turn the television or radio on until after I dropped the kids off.
How could I forget picking up my mother to go to the garden center and listening to the terrifying reports on the radio as we drove. I'll never forget the silent, fearful looks we exchanged as we listened.
How could I forget taking a radio out to the yard as Mama and I put sod down, planted bushes and flowers, and worked to make her yard look pretty...a gesture that was meant as an early birthday present, but would we all still be here to celebrate her birthday on the 19th?
As I looked at the wide, innocent eyes staring up at me with hopeful curiosity, I teared up and took a deep breath. "I remember," I whispered, "and it's up to all of you to make sure that future generations never forget."
Won't you please join me in remembering those whose lives were lost or forever changed on that day?
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.