Half my life ago. Eighth grade, Tuesday morning. Mom and Dad were watching the news while my sisters and I were getting ready for school. All eyes were on New York as the planes hit. I remember getting to school and going to the library with the rest of my social studies class, watching the footage as the towers collapsed. Everyone was a mess of fear and confusion and anger and grief.
We shouldn’t forget. It does a disservice to too many to do so. But we should also learn. We need to remember that ignorance and fear and hate help no one. We have to find an understanding, realize that our differences make us stronger.
There are generations to come. Teach them that our divisions can be healed, that we can find common ground and grow to be better than we were. Do not forget how to love.
The Swords of the Ancients 