i wrote the following stream of words on a day in september 2001. i was a working mother with a six month old baby. there was no facebook. no blogger. no twitter. i didn't have cable. i was a long way from my native New York. so i worked, and like you, i tried to make sense of what was going on.
to our children:
when you were born, the world was golden with promise, over-full with opportunities for an innocent child (prize of young parents, joy of generations).
our early days together were a dance-a-thon of waltzes then fox-trots, as i tried to teach you sure-footedness in a world where daybreaks were pink-new and bursting with endless possibilities; where moonglow was the butter soft keeper of dreams.
how clear things looked through the eyes of one who is seeing it all for the first time. how i took solace in every ahh of wonderment, of understanding as the world began to make sense for you, as it has always made sense for me.
how do i tell you that it is now different somehow? that on September 11,2011 at 8:48 am the bad people raged and the earth shook and a great cry went up from a wounded nation.
how do i watercolor your world when the images around us are grey and ash-covered?
these are the things i know that will NEVER change:
the waves pooling on the shore,
the rain clinging to the screen door,
brownie batter on a wooden spoon,
"Pat the bunny," and "Goodnight, Moon,"
and belly flops
tadpole tails in brackish creeks,
mommy's kisses on tear-stained cheeks.
the flag from The World Trade Center as it visited Southport on July 4, 2011