i shouldn't remember.

and it's not even the event, moving tragic awful, but the fact that it's one of the few dates on which i can remember what i was doing.

fast asleep in boy's arms when the phone rang.

sitting on the living room linoleum in my underwear watching scratchy reception of a tower fall as boy lazily thumps in.

hugging boy on the couch in his dad's living room as we watched cnn that evening wondering if it was over yet.

it's one of those mornings on which i remember exactly how and why i woke up... where i spent the day ... and how his face looked. and that's what's surreal to me, actually being able to remember a specific day that should have been like all the rest. and i know he would have said something poignant and clever right now that would have torn your face off and ripped your heart wide open at the same time.

so i'll be quiet.