When DH and I were in New York City, we visited the World Trade Center site. We remembered and mourned and wondered... There is a timeline posted at the site that includes images from 9/11 and the picture that made my heart well up in my throat and tears spring to my eyes showed a group of medical personnel standing ready at a hospital entrance. I remembered how devastatingly sad it was to realize that there were so many people ready, willing and able to help that day -- and so few who needed their help.
The optimist in me, the part of me that knows there's a future even when I'm saddened and stunned beyond belief by the news, takes comfort in the fact that there are more people to be helped in London than not.
It is so hard not to feel helpless, not to want to go home tonight and close the door and leave it closed for a while, maybe for a long time. It is so hard to be a mother, to not freak out about stuff like this and about how the world has changed... and I can't even think about the direction it's going... and what it'll be like when M*c is 20... and Kt's supposed to study in London next spring... to not scare the living shit out of my kids.