I sit here quietly in the dark of morning and wait for the bells to ring at the local church or on TV or in my heart, as they have on 9/11* every year for most of my children’s lives. 8:46. 9:03. 9:37. 9:59. 10:03. 10:28.
It’s coming. It will flood me with emotion. I will stand in the garden that I planted then, and I will cry. Later, I will ride my bike to the Hand of God Tree. I will pray for guidance on the road ahead as I recommit to this manifesto of intentions I wrote after five weeks of reading The New York Times’ daily Portraits of Grief of those who died that day.
I will not stop believing in a better tomorrow, and the stone-in-the-pond ripple effect of individual and collective action. I will not stop planting seeds of change, or traveling at a pace where I can look humanity in the face and thus perhaps understand how I can serve our world’s needs better. I will not stop bearing witness to what I think is wrong and shining a light on it so I am not the lone witness in the darkness. I will not stop rejecting the gutter of failed imagination.
I will not stop.
* Here’s the beginning of the preface to my book, Food for My Daughters: what one mom decided to do when the towers fell (and what you can do, too). Click here to “Look Inside” and read the whole preface, see the table of contents, and order. You may also enjoy the book’s website here. (FYI, one of my favorite bikey stories, title Hallelujeh, is in that book.)