
We string our lives together based on seemingly unrelated moments in time. I vividly remember being 3 years old in full meltdown mode squirming in the arms of my aunt while I clung to an open bag of Cheez Doodles as it emptied out in slow motion like an avalanche onto the floor below. Or the time my mother smiled as she wept silent tears when my brother and I, ages 9 and 6 respectively, decided it’d be great fun to repeatedly mess up her hair. Of course I also recollect numerous happy moments as well but it seems as though the poignant memories remain firmly ingrained forever. So too the deeply resonating memory of September 11, 2001. From the routine to the obscure, we are collectively reminded of our humanity as we introspectively trace the events of that fateful day.
love
Parenthood does not mean the end of Romance

I still vividly remember the day I first set eyes on my wife. I was a chronically late high school senior which meant I routinely spent time in late detention. Little did I realize my penchant for disregarding time would provide a pivotal moment of serendipity. My wife, then a member of the high school band attending practice, had exited the school at nearly the precise moment late detention had let out. Her blonde hair along with her light pink jacket immediately caught my attention. She moved with purpose. Whatever teenage angst I had been harboring that day immediately melted away. She was different. Little did I know she’d change my life forever.