Two Good Eggs

Two cracked eggs find the sunnyside (and funny side) of trying to conceive

Today, remembering what’s important

on September 11, 2012

While I’ve been admittedly fixated lately with what I don’t have, today I woke up with a different perspective.  I watched my mini-Spiderman stagger into my bedroom at 6:30am, with sleepy eyes and a blanket dragging behind him, and welcomed him into my bed for a few precious minutes of snuggle time before getting ready for pre-school and work.  Feeling his hand trace my fingers and his warm breath on my arm, my cup runneth over with joy and gratitude, peace and love.

It was in that moment that I reflected on all the children lost in the tragedy of 9/11.  The people killed on that tragic day may not have all been infants.  They may not have been toddlers, or even school-age.  But they were somebody’s babies.  And in a matter of minutes, those parents’ lives were forever changed.  It is a horror that I cannot begin to fathom.  And a heartbreak I feel for people whom I have never met.

As I remember those who gave their lives – some willingly, some unwittingly – I vow to honor them, and their parents, by holding on tight to what I have, revering my blessings as a privilege not a right.  I will be thankful every day for the life that I have, and the child I am fortunate enough to hold in my arms every morning and sing to every night.  This morning, I gave him a little tighter hug than usual.  And I’ll probably sing him an extra song tonight.  Because I can.

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