Sharing information, tempering fear: a parent's story

"What if I go to the bus after school tomorrow and see a plane in the sky? It might be them."

So her father explained about US airspace, and how the military can protect us with aircraft carriers and Air Force jets, and how President Bush surely wouldn't open the airspace unless he was certain it was safe. No planes would even get close to the United States that night.

"I have to trust President Bush more than I've trusted anyone else in my life," she said, still crying.

Her thoughts turned to those guilty of these unspeakable acts: "Why did they have to do this? We didn't do anything to them. Why did they have to scare so many little kids?"

How do you respond to that, I wondered. No one knows those answers.

"I hate them. I hate them," she said in angry sobs. "I want to go kill them."

"Kill them?" My sweet, church-going, cries-when-her-little-brother-cries daughter wants to kill? Not really, of course, but in her innocence, she gave voice to what so many were thinking and feeling.

I took a deep breath. "I know how you feel. I imagine almost everyone feels that way tonight," I told her, as we lay there in the darkness, holding each other. "I feel that way, too. I can't believe what has happened today." As hard as it was, I said, we had to try not to think about hating and killing because that would give the terrorists an even bigger victory.

"Think of all those brave firefighters and police officers who, at this very moment, are trying to save people," I continued. "Think of all the people who are donating blood or money to help. We saw the very worst of people today, but we're also seeing the very best. That's what we have to try and think about."

The conversation and her tears continued for maybe 20 minutes more, her immediate fears assuaged. We lay there, her head on my chest, my arms holding her close.

"I'm so glad Zachary is too young to know what's going on," Alex said. "This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

She was right. Though she was unhurt, and her family and friends were safe, it had happened to her, to children around the country.

A few seconds of silence passed in the darkness, and then a little voice, humming softly "The Star Spangled Banner." At first I smiled. Then I cried.

"That made me feel better, humming the national anthem," she said when she finished. "Especially the last part - 'the land of the free and the home of the brave' - that really made me feel better."

Me, too.

A version of this article first appeared in the Monroe (Mich.) Evening News.

Cindy Chapman lives with her husband and two children in Sugar Hill, Ga.

Parents: To submit a first-person essay on your own parenting experiences, send an e-mail to home@csps.com.

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