Sept. 11th. Not a good day.

A lot of people have written and tweeted and posted and blogged about where they were on 9/11 one decade ago. I am not sure whether I should be embarrassed to admit it, but I didn’t even know anything had happened for hours.

My twins were almost 5 months old, and my daughter was a year and a half. I was drowning in child care all day every day. Nursing two babies through the night and tending to three all day. I thought it odd that we had no TV reception – which also meant no news. My husband had been working blocks from the towers and getting off of the train at that stop for months – but had taken to working from home much of the time given how much help I needed.

… I have wanted to blog all day today about how much I remember, and how much has changed.  How I had time to “wake up” to the world as my babies grew, and to wake up to the national new reality on so many different levels.

But my six year old fell off of the monkey bars yesterday (on Shabbat) and broke two bones in her wrist. I had to navigate her  intense pain, questioning nurses, halachic judgement calls and decisions, and six out of town guests staying at my house.

So today, I was absolutely worn out. I did the best I could to wander through unbreakable commitments like a zombie, vaguely aware of the mourning, the memories, the still-open wounds of loss and tragedy of others around me…..

So today as I drown in the fog of exhaustion from my own family’s needs, it feels eerily like very, very little has changed.


My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone touched and hurt by the horrible losses of 9/11, and victims of terror everywhere. 

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