Like many of you, I find myself reflecting on the events of September 11, 2001. Where was I when I first heard? Where was I when the first tower fell? Who could have done this? Will our country ever feel “safe” again? Fourteen years later, I can still remember the feelings of confusion, helplessness, and utter, devastating loss.
But one of my most profound memories is from September 12 — the day after — as I drove the car. My daughter Morgan, just 3 years old at the time, was in her toddler seat in the back.
During such car rides before, she and I had shared many conversations about American Flag etiquette. She understood the significance of a lowered flag prior to Old Glory being lowered to half-staff for this most recent tragedy
As we drove past a large American Flag, appropriately lowered and hanging limp with the lack of breeze, she commented in her innocence,
“The flag looks so sad, mommy.”
Where usually, I would have jumped on that “teachable moment,” not that time. No, on this occasion, it was all I could do to swallow the lump in my throat and reply,
“It is, sweetie. It is so sad right now. But the breeze will come back.”