A few months ago I learned that my baby-hungry little sister would not be able to have any more children. My heart ached as I watched hers break. I felt sick as I watched her hurdle endless health-related obstacles that kept being thrust mercilessly into her path; prior to that I found out that my dad had yet another form of cancer to fight.
You know how you can pinpoint the exact place and time you were when you learned about the events on September 11th? Certain days become frozen in time; indelible impressions that mark a change. On 9-11 I was leaving to shop for a washing machine. My in-laws were visiting. My mother-in-law was upstairs ironing. There aren’t many events in life that leave impressions as unforgettable as this one was for me. There comes the realization that something horrible is happening—that forms the lump in your throat; the pit in your stomach: The thing that rocks your boat.
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