September 11, 2008

On September 11, 2001, my daughter was 18 months old. I lived 35 miles from my place of work, which in Los Angeles translated to a 1 – 1 1/2 hour commute each way, each day. I had to pass Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) each day on the way to and from the office and I was sandwiched between LAX and the Port of Los Angeles.

I remember being transfixed watching the news, watching the towers fall and then, actually leaving…for work. Against my best instincts that told me to stay home with my child. At the office, I was filled with angst, worried that something would happen in LA in concert with the terror-filled day in New York. I remember leaving the office mid-day along with many other parents, and returning home on eerily empty highways, as many other Los Angelenos had elected to stay home that day, following their instinct and watching the ongoing telecasts.

This morning, my daughter was adding the date to an overlooked piece of homework as she sat in the back of my car on the way to school. I heard her talking to herself, trying to figure out the month and date to put down on the piece of paper. July, 7, August 8, September 9! 9…11…2008. She was too young to remember that day, but hearing her so innocently say 9…11… and it having no real meaning for her…brought tears to my eyes on the long, short drive to her school this morning.

My heart is with those who lost families and friends on September 11th. My heart is with New Yorkers who cannot go through this day without reliving their September 11th.

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