22 Years Later

Reflecting on a day that shattered the peace — and set the stage for bravery.

Every year, this day seems to sneak up on me. As a middle-aged millennial, September 11 holds a strange place in my life.

Old enough to remember the unfamiliar heartache of that day — and the subsequent strangeness of the years that followed.

Too young to grasp the reality of the moment — often feeling a sense of responsibility and ownership over a memory that often feels like it’s from another time and space.

Either way, it was a defining moment that cracked the facade of “safety” in the lives of so many of us sitting in middle school classrooms across the country.

We collectively held our breath, and the world became bigger, scarier, and much…louder.

This morning, my son asked why the flags were “only halfway up” at school.

“Because we are remembering a lot of people who got hurt and died when angry, confused people driven by hatred made very, very bad decisions.”

His confused voice piped up: “Were you there?”

“No, buddy, it was in New York — a long way away from us. But I do remember when it happened.”