While at the kitchen table working on her division homework my youngest paid no mind to the television broadcast on. TV is usually not on during this time at home but I figured that it was old news and she usually tunes them out. Her eye caught the loud and shocking explosion and I noticed that she put her pencil down for a moment and was transfixed on the screen. Then she snapped hear head my way and asked if what she was watching was real and if it was happening “right now.” Her brother, who had been emptying the dishwasher, quickly blurted out to her that what I was watching was 9/11 and not to worry. I paused the re-broadcast and rallied them by my side to talk for a few minutes about that day and what life was like after. When the discussion was done they went about their afternoon and I was proud that I’d assuaged fears.
Later in the eve after a round of riotous tickling had stopped and they were settling into bed, my youngest still breathing heavy, asked me if I was sure mom’s flight back home later in the week would be okay. Before I could answer my son blurted to her to not worry because “mommy always comes back safe.” I nodded to her in agreement, kissed them good-night and flicked off their lights.
I then stood outside their bedroom in the darkness…speechless.
