Musings on 12 Years (and one day) Past

The day that the World Trade Center Towers were hit, I sat at work numb along with everyone else.  We were 2,000 miles removed from the action, but not immune to the enormity of the situation.

The years passed and two jobs later, I started to travel more for work.  And curse the restrictions to take off my shoes, that make carry-on a total pain in the ass and generally make air travel suck. Now, it's rote, I know what to expect, and I've got it down to a science.

The years passed and we finally had a baby that we needed to put into daycare.  I struggled with the uneasiness of the location I chose based on the proximity to our house and the fact that I get a sizeable discount because of the type of job I have.  But, the risk is so low of something bad happening, especially with the security in place at the location that I squashed it down.

The years passed and occasionally I have mini-freakouts because I work on the 11th floor of a secure building.  Somehow, having all this security doesn't make me feel better all the time. 

The years passed, and on the 12th anniversary of the attacks, I turned on the tv, which had been left on the History Channel.  For an hour and a half, I watched archival footage from that day.  Fear, confusion, disbelief, the mess of dust and debris as the towers each fell.

When I dropped of Baby X this morning, the pang of uneasiness had returned.  There's several reasons why Baby X is not in daycare near my place of work.  One of them that I have not voiced often because it sounds paranoid, is that if something were to happen at this location, I would not want him anywhere near it.  But, if something happens in his location, would I ever forgive myself for wanting to save a buck?

The paranoia will fade.  But it will never go away.