Day of Relection

As I remember the events of 9/11 ten years ago today, it inspires me to reflect on everything that has happened since that day and how different my life is. My contractions and labor finally began that day -- for my two week-late Savannah's birth. I wondered with fear that day what kind of world I was bringing my child into. Now, three children later, I wonder differently. What kind of teen will Savannah be in just a few years? I'm already swimming in the eye-rolls and the sassiness of three daughters. I'm still a very protective mama, but I've learned that I need to let them go and let them grow a small bit more every day. (Doesn't mean that I like it in the least bit.)

That day I was the wife of a Military Police officer, living feet away from the beautiful shore of the Chesapeake Bay. I was a baby at 23 years old, with naturally super-light ashy blonde hair. Now I am married to a different Army veteran, living in the exotic cornfields of Indianapolis. Thirty-three years old now (is this considered my prime?), I battle with obesity and my natural hair color has darkened from all my pregnancies to the point where I need to dye my hair to cover the gray.

My career has not changed at all from those days. I was, at the time, a house wife and former nanny that was babysitting at home. I later got a job at the post daycare. I still had a goal of getting a degree. Now, I'm still working in daycare and making the exact same amount that I was all those years ago -- but with many more expenses and a higher cost of living. I'm slowly etching out college courses so that I can get a degree. I'm not convinced of any particular job that I want to do, and I may not even have a two year degree until I'm 40.

The only pet that we had that day was Nanook, a very happy and playful boy who was only 2 years old. Now I am biding the time, day by day, until I need to euthanize my friend. He is suffering from auto-immune disorder and his white blood cells are attacking his body from the inside. He is overweight, lost his playfulness, and his liver is overactive and producing over 10xs the enzymes it needs to. He hasn't grayed a bit, and he still comes to my side with his gorgeous smile and blue/brown eyes (now cloudy with cataracts) and nudges to be pet. He now has two little buddies to play with: 3 year old Marley the fat little miniature pincher, and 4 year old Oliver the bischon-shitzu mix.

I cannot honestly say that I am happier than I was then, because I was pretty happy at that point in my life. I had served, as had both my husbands, the United States in the Army during peace time. Ignorance was bliss, and there were very few security checkpoints anywhere. Ft Hood was where I had just moved from, and was not known for the attacks on soldiers by one of their own.

That day created fear that shook me to my soul. When I was at the Walmart customer service a month ago and I saw three Arab men in turbans, transferring $1000 each to their loved ones at home overseas I automatically became suspicious. It's really terrible, actually, that such a stereotype is in my heart and I wish it wasn't. I teach my children against such thoughts, but I also know that it's learning from the past that makes us better in the future.

I am not unhappy now, but I am a world apart from where I was back then. I watched the 9/11 memorial services live on television with my daughter who was beginning her journey into the world that very day. While holding her close, I caught myself still holding my tummy during the replays of those terrible events as I did back then.

Things come around full circle, but never in the same way.