missing pieces…

There are far too many posts to read on this subject today and it is still not enough to fill the space left behind. With each account we nod our heads, put our hands to our heart and feel what we feel. This is a day of feeling then, first. We remember where we were but more than that we remember how we felt. Feeling is always present tense.

My children won’t remember how they felt, they were all too young to have the first person experience I had. They will hear about how I sat on the couch nursing my first son and watching things unfold on television- confused, horrified. They will hear about my daughter’s school calling, saying that the children were safe, that we need to let them continue their day. They will remember how we spoke of it.

Future generations will remember what we make of this event, how we conducted ourselves, the stories about how the families of the people lost picked through the rubble and put their lives together again, missing pieces. They will remember the stories we tell.

So tell your story. In this way we weave together the fabric of our shared experience. And then we wrap these stories around us in times of grief  and remembrance, because we want so much to be warm.

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