9/11

We got up today and went to church. It seemed the only thing to do on this day.

With this 10th anniversary of 9/11 I've found myself glued to the t.v, watching updates on survivors, those that lost family members, and programs recounting what happened on that horrible day. It still seems unfathomable and evokes the same gut wrenching emotion in me as when it happened.

I especially find myself thinking about the children, those that lost parents and parents that lost children.

And I think of my own children.

 I find myself wondering about the very moment my children learn of 9/11.

How old will they be?

Where will they be?

I can only hope that I'm standing next to them in that moment so I can be the one to somehow answer their questions.

But what will I even say???

One day my kids may ask me where I was when the planes hit. 

The truth is that I had no idea of what had occurred until 9/12. During the actual moments when the planes hit, I was just winding down my day in a remote village in Madagascar, running along a red dirt path, through a valley of bright green rice fields.

It was so peaceful.

So breathtakingly beautiful.

And all the while, half way around the world, horrific devastation was occurring. One act was changing the course of history forever.

In this corner of the world, the news of 9/11 didn't arrive until the next day.

I taxi brussed to the nearby town, and gathered with other peace corp volunteers around the only t.v. in town, for days. 

I still have the same feelings today as I did sitting around that small t.v, 10 years ago.

I still can't wrap my brain around it all- the sadness, the evil, the devastation, the courage, the senselessness.