Remembering

Eight years ago this morning, I finished feeding my son his baby-food breakfast while watching the small black and white tv on the kitchen counter over his shoulder.  It was a peaceful, bright September morning.  He finished, I washed him up, and lifted him out of his highchair.  On my way out of the kitchen, I switched off the tv.  I walked into the living room, switched on that tv, and found that life had changed forever.

I left the kitchen a calm, happy new mother.  I walked into the living room a cornered, fiercely protective mother and a fearful, defensive, sad, and angry American.

But I am lucky.  My life, however changed, went on from that day.

So many did not.

I remember, today and always.