Lost Shoes

Years ago when I was a little girl, I think around 5 years old, there was a pair of lost shoes and I have vivid memories about them. I was playing with another little girl in our neighborhood and we kicked off our sandals to run around the yard and play on the swingset. When it was time to go inside, we walked up to where we had kicked off our shoes and only one pair remained. My friend’s shoes were gone.

Later that day we found out that some of the neighborhood boys had thrown her shoes into a gutter. We peered down into the dark sewer and saw her shoes. It was too deep and too dark to get them out and they were gone forever.

That night I went to bed with a feeling of terror like I had never felt before. I think it was the first time I realized that people do bad things, not just naughty things, but bad things. I was so scared that one of my toys, something I loved, would be tossed into a sewer and I would never have it again. There was this feeling, deep in my gut, that things would never be the same and I would never regain that innocence. I learned that day that bad things happen and even my parents couldn’t stop them.

It was years later that I felt that exact same terror, deep in my gut. It was the night of September 11, 2001. It was eerie because it was the exact same fear. That someone could, in an instant, do a bad thing and I could lose something I loved. I went to bed that night knowing that everything was changed forever. That my world was no longer safe and that bad things happen and no one could stop them.

Today I wonder when my kids will learn that terrible lesson. Today I pray that I can keep them from learning it for as long as possible. I know one day they are going to hear about what happened seven years ago. Maybe they will always hear little pieces of that day or maybe one day they will learn about it in its entirety. But, for today, they are still innocent. Their world is still safe and secure. They don’t need to know how the world changed just yet.