"Oh no," my daughter exclaimed, just as we began the drive to school. Once again, she forgot something.
"We're allowed to wear red, white or blue today," she explained, "and I put on my uniform." I guessed this must be one of the ways her middle school is commemorating the events of September 11, 2001.
I pointed out that the polo shirt she was wearing was navy blue, so that was OK.
While my kid ruminated on her wasted opportunity, I thought back to that awful morning. It wasn't difficult. NPR reported that President Obama laid a wreath at the Pentagon. A Coast Guard training exercise on the Potomac was giving Washington residents an eerie flashback to the horror of that day. And a New York firefighter remembered losing both his sons in the World Trade Center (one also a firefighter, one a cop).
As I choked back tears, my daughter's monologue on her limited fashion options ended with a loud sniff.
"Why does the car smell like bagels?" She glanced behind us and noticed a couple of large bags with the Western Bagel logo. "Why did you buy bagels?"
I explained to her how Congress has designated September 11 as a National Day of Service and Remembrance, and that my small contribution was to deliver a treat to our local fire station -- as a thank you for all they do to protect our community. (This, as firefighters from around the country are still battling the ginormous Station fire in nearby Angeles Crest Forest.)
"Cool," she nodded. "Maybe I'll just make a red star out of construction paper and pin it to my shirt."
September 11, 2001 was the Tuesday of my daughter's second week of kindergarten. We watched the second plane hit the tower as we were getting ready, and as we drove to school that day, we listened in disbelief as the NPR newscaster described the first one crumble. I barely knew the other kindergarten moms at that point, but that morning we embraced one another, as if we were family. I like to think that at that moment, we were all sisters in shock that something so terrible could occur in the United States. And we were all fearful of what might happen next. The world changed that day.
My daughter does not remember what the world was like before 9/11. She cannot remember a time when she did not have to remove her shoes and half her clothing before she could get on an airplane. She does not recall what it was like to be at peace. She has no memory of a time when the 11th of September was just another day.
But because of that, it kind of is. She can easily prattle on about a wasted opportunity to go to school out of uniform while all I can do is think of the people who were lost that day -- as well as a way of life.
She went merrily off to class... and I delivered my bounty to one of our firefighters and choked back tears again.
(I wrote more specifically about my experience of 9/11 last year here.)
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