Five Years

Five years ago today I was pregnant with BoyStar. The day before my sonogram. It was sunny and gorgeous. I didn't hear about the World Trade Center until a coworker came in and asked if anyone had heard a news report, because Howard Stern was saying a plane had crashed into the tower and who can ever take Howard Stern seriously.

But others talk about that day for more eloquently and with more immediate experience than I can. I'm going to write about what came next.

The next day I saw an ultrasound image of a big, healthy baby boy. That child was born weighing over ten pounds. And he thrived. Five years later he recognizes the alphabet and numbers and shapes. He counts and does puzzles and plays computer and video games. He manipulates his grandparents and fights with his baby brother. Because life goes on. Because babies will keep being born. Because people can survive the worst losses: betrayals and divorces and deaths, and yet life goes on. And while that life may be a different life, it can still be a good life. It's what we choose to make it.

And I think we owe it to the victims of that day to make the best life we can.