An Open Letter of Apology to Young People

Almost sixteen years ago, my beautiful, smart, spunky, funny and spirited daughter was born. She arrived at this world three weeks before the attacks of 9/11, and for those 21 days, my life revolved around getting to know the perfect little human being that had already taken a piece of my heart the moment I first heard hers. She was a colicky baby who cried more than she slept, but I was still in a state of maternal bliss.

Then the attacks happened.

That morning, I stumbled downstairs in a fog of sleeplessness to turn on the TODAY Show, something I hadn’t done since having the baby. I sat down with a bowl of cereal to watch Katie, Matt, and Al, and the first plane had already hit the tower. Something serious was happening, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Moments later, the second plane hit the second tower, and I stopped chewing and felt the rotation of the earth pause in my horror; the gravity of the events unfolding on live television began to sink in. I picked up my precious child and held her close to me and wept. I wept for the mothers who had held their children just like I was holding mine, only to have those lives snuffed out by the evil of strangers; I wept for humanity.

To every young person in the world: I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have had to hear words like the war on terror and suicide attack on a daily basis.

I’m sorry that you’ve never known what it’s like to wait at an airport gate with a grandmother and hug her before she walks down the jetway and onto a plane.

I’m sorry that you may be scared of public places where large amounts of people congregate.

I’m sorry that you may not get to experience the Eiffel Tower, the majestic architecture of the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben, or the beaches of the French Riviera without armed soldiers securing the area.

I’m sorry you have to endure lockdown drills where you sit silently in the corner of the classroom with your fellow students––collectively trembling in fear––knowing all the while it’s not real.

I’m sorry that a small piece of your dignity is taken away at the airport security line every time you travel. It’s for the greater good, but it’s still hard to swallow the notion that all of us are potential terror suspects.

While I still believe that the world is filled with many more kind, loving, and decent people than those who do harm, it’s hard not to be shaken and scared when random terrorist attacks occur. Two days ago, 22 people were killed by a suicide bomber in Manchester, England after leaving an Ariana Grande concert that had just ended. When I read the story about a 15-year old girl who died in the attack, and the anguish her mother and family are enduring, I wept. This mother is me. This mother is all of us.