Dear Henry,
Today is September 11, 2012. It's been 11 years since I sat in 11th grade Spanish class and watched two planes crash into the World Trade Center in New York, a plane smash into the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., and a brave group of people crash a plane in Pennsylvania to save countless others. As I write these words, tears stream down my face. 11 years later, that's how real it is to me still.
I'm writing to ask you something. Please don't forget this day. I hope that when you are my age, this day makes you as angry and sad as it makes me. I hope it doesn't become normal for you...like the assassination of Kennedy or V.E. Day has become for me {and if you don't know what those things are than I have failed you}.
11 years later, this still effects our family. As I type this, your Uncle Cory is fighting for our freedoms in Afghanistan -- a war so directly connected to this day. Because of this day, your Daddy joined the military and serves our country in the Army Reserves.
You may not ever feel the way I do about September 11. I get that. But I hope you at least take pause, understand why it's important, and know, deep in your heart, how lucky you are to live in the United States of America.
Love,
Mama
Woah, I don't know why I had to get this out. Obviously, I won't actually be talking to Henry about September 11 this year. But when is the right time? I really don't know. How and when will you talk to your children about the attacks?
