Mom scouted preschools carefully and selected a good Christian church preschool. I was to go Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9am to 11am. The first day started perfectly. Mommy took me in, introduced my teachers, and left. Completely uneventful for me. As she tells the story, she returned to the car where talk radio was tuned in. The plan was a leisurely drive home and prop up her feet for a bit. After all, she was almost six months pregnant with my baby brother! But an unknown, panicked woman was screaming something about a plane crash and a tower on fire. What tower? Eiffel in Paris? Leaning in Pisa? CN in Toronto? Oh, did I forget to mention the date was September 11, 2001? In the time it took Mommy to get me in the building, the first plane had hit in New York. However, with how frightened the woman on the radio was, she wasn't very clear about what was happening. Mommy just wanted to get home and see if it might be on CNN so she could find out what tower. Just then the woman's panic level rose, if that was possible, as a second plane hit the second tower. That is when she thought "World Trade Centers" but tried to dismiss the thought. After all, what kind of damage could a few little Cessnas do? But why the heck did a pair hit on the same day? Perhaps this was just a modern day "War of the Worlds" and she missed the ad, she thought. Still she raced home and put on CNN where, to her horror, she found smoke billowing from the enormous World Trade Center skyscrapers. She was completely perplexed as no Cessna could do the damage she was observing. Then the tape replay showed a jet. With mom's education in aviation, she knew what type of bird it was right away and she dropped to the floor with disbelief. It was so frightening, she was paralyzed in front of the TV. Then came word that a fire was believed to have been started at the Pentagon with hints that an airplane may have been responsible. It was still unclear as to what was going on. But then a plane was reported "missing" over Pennsylvania and her only thought was of it crashing directly into the church where I was. She was ready to race back to the preschool to get me. But instead she prayed for strength.

I got through my first day of preschool with no incidents, as if that morning was no different than any other day, save for the fact that I had a new event in my life. But for mom, it was a terrifying experience that triggered a special form of separation anxiety in her.

I still ask her to tell me the story of my first day, the planes flying into buildings, and the 3,000 people who died for no reason but the selfish hatred of others. No, I don't really understand it at this time, but my curiosity makes me ask anyhow.