September 11 shouldn't be a Sunday. In my mind it's always a Tuesday, with me moving stuff around in the garage, answering the phone after shoving an old dishwasher into the corner, and hearing my mother-in-law ask me if I'm watching TV.
"No. Should I be?"
"Well, they've hit the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and ... well, it's really something you should see."
Who is "they"? And what should I do with the girls?
How awful that turning on the TV was actually something of a relief to me. Terrorists had clearly struck, but thankfully it wasn't on the global "paint your windows white" nuclear level I'd been expecting since I was a kid.
I didn't have to drag the girls into the basement, and that was something to be grateful for - for this parent/child, at least.