Twelve years later, I still find it hard to reconcile. As a parent now, I think it’s even more difficult to deal with the events of the morning the world got turned upside down as I jogged along the East River.
I’m happy that I don’t have to explain September 11th to Aria just yet. She already looks at me questionably with her big eyes when I tell her she can’t go too far, or that it’s not OK to just run up and cuddle everyone she sees on the street.
She’s so full love. So full of innocence. And suddenly I am so keenly aware of all that surrounds her that is not. It’s sometimes a tough thing to live in a world that’s not always fair or friendly, especially with something so precious at my side.
At night, quite often, I walk back into her room to see her asleep in her crib. I look at her peaceful little face and ask God, the universe, the powers that be, to watch over her– to keep her safe and happy and sweet. I know life is life, and hardship will come, but I still hope that all of the exuberant happiness that is so evident in her now doesn’t get too hampered along the way; that her light, and all that love, will always prevail, even when the dark times come.