The birthday sigh.

As It turns out, 9/11 happened just 3 days before my 30th birthday. Since then, it's not without a heavy sigh I begin my birthday week every year. With every new decade, I will also be reminded that another decade has passed since the tragedy and I am in fact another decade older.  It's hard to turn the tv on because every time I do, tears fill my eyes. So rather than watch tv on the eve of this sad day, we spent time as a family on the porch of our home finding solace in each other. We mention nothing of the family friends we lost, yet they weigh quietly  on my mind. My brothers lost two of their childhood best friends. They were good kids that would show up at your home like the friendly neighbor kid, looking to pass the time.  I would think of my father, the 4o year Wall Street veteran, forever changed that day as he came home covered in ashes. He like so many others would find solace in fellow New Yorkers as they made their way to safety.  In a heartbeat, he had lost his neighboring coworkers. They (seven of them) had gone out for a celebratory breakfast at Windows On The World and were not fortunate enough to return. My father worked so close to them in their little trading booth that he could touch them. He came home a changed man. Despite all his efforts throughout his life to provide and protect, he felt helpless as the world came down around him. We all felt helpless that day.  Strangely enough, I would hear about it from Howard Stern while driving Kate to a Gymboree.  His usually sarcasm and lewdness was replaced with shock and distress. I stopped the car and as time stood still, the heaviness of the situation was suffocating.  We waited anxiously for phone calls from my brothers, three of four of them working only a stones throw away from the ill fated area. One had only changed his job from the massive tower weeks before but I hadn't been sure if the job change had occurred yet.  One by one, I would listen through the receiver as my mother would say "he's OK" and I would be able to breathe again. The pain would stay with me. Peter would come into the post 9/11 world one Oct 31. The usual late pregnancy sleeplessness was acerbated by my anxiety of raising a new baby in this troubled era. 9/11 had changed everything, even the way mothers raise their newborns. We would surely keep them closer and be sure to raise them never to forget.   Much like the space shuttle disaster marked the end of my childhood, 9/11 marked the true beginning of my adulthood.  The memory of 9/11 brings profound sadness and reminds me of yet another year of my life passed. With this double whammy of sorts, it does bring clarity to the everyday miracles around me. No longer do I take any of these miracles for granted. I laugh at the silly ones, cry at the emotional ones and marvel at those I find beautiful. We must do this to honor their memories.  I encourage you to embrace your own miracles you see  because collectively we can make this world a better place.