Twelve years ago I was going about my typical media-free breakfast with my boys (then 1 and 3) when my husband called blabbering some ridiculous story about airplanes an the World Trade Center. I turned on the radio (we didn't have TV service) and couldn't find any news at that moment. Was he kidding me? Finally I caught NPR where I heard, for the first time I can remember, fear and confusion in the voices of their reporters. I stuck in a tape into the boom box to record it (I know, old skool!). I didn't see video footage until that night.
It was one of those rare Chicago days where the weather was just perfect. We had a morning playdate with a cousin and an afternoon playdate with friends we met at the local pool that summer. The sky was eerily empty and silent especially that we are often in the flight path for planes from O'Hare airport.
Life has never been the same.