A decade ago I went with my kids to their toddler tumbler class. All the parents were jittery and distracted. There was a new girl in class too. Come to find out she would become a regular part of our group over the next 2 1/2 years that we lived there. Her father had been on one of the top floors of the World Trade Center and was among the many that were never found. In the days that followed that event, I also learned that our neighbor up the street had been a pilot on one of the planes forced to fly into those same buildings.
Weeks later I remember fighting fear and going into the city. There witnessing the firetrucks race by with their sirens wailing, American flags waving behind in signal of another body from their brotherhood pulled from the rubble.
From my hometown right by Ft. Bragg, a number of my high school classmates leapt into action and have continued to risk their lives pursuing that poor excuse for a man until this very day, while I have done little in comparison. I am so proud of them.
For all those, and their families may today be a point of closure. For that little girl who should be around 17 now, may it feel like justice. For us all, may this be a turning point on the road to peace. Osama Bin Laden in dead.
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