five years

Five years ago, my personal grief at the death of my grandmother in late August was subsumed by shock and national grief. The personal loss of the woman who had raised my mom and taught me to knit was dwarfed by the gaping maw less than a mile from where I sit right now. I was at work in this same building on a different floor. My little family was fortunate to not have lost anyone close to us, although some friends were very near the WTC, but made it out alive. I was never more relieved to see my husband than I was that day when I walked up to him on 34th street and he took me into his arms. So many things have changed, my son was born, we've gone to war twice, more lies have been told, but so many haven't. Everyday, I expect to hear about another attack on US soil.