It took until about 11:00 this morning for me to realize/remember that it was September 11th today. Well, maybe I knew from looking at the calendar what day it was, but I didn't immediatey remember it was 9/11, and the significance of that day.
It's amazing what seven years can do. A day that consumed our lives as a nation for so long, I feel is actually beginning to fade. Not that I'll ever forget - I can't. I lived in Pittsburgh at the time, about an hour from Shanksville, the crash site of Flight 93. That flight in particular has touched me, perhaps because it was so close to home, but also because of the incredible strenth and heroism of the passengers on that flight. I often wonder if I would have had the courage to do what they did, or if, terrified as I might be, I would have clung desperately to the ever-slimming hope that the terrorists would not do what seemed inevitable. I don't think you can ever know what you'd do until put to the test - and what a horrendous test it is.
Yet in the past seven years, so much else has happened in my life. I met my husband, got married, had Monkey. I've moved across the country and back again. And two years ago, my sister-in-law gave birth to one of my nephews on this day. I now know two 9/11 babies, one born before, and one after, and it is their birthdays I have written on my calendar, not any reminder about the national significance of this day. In a way, I think that's a form of healing.
Nevertheless, I did want to take a moment from a busy workday to stop and remember. Our nation has suffered many tragedies, as have so many other nations, but this one will always be burned in my memory.
1 comment:
Very well said! I got to this post late, but on September 11, I also paused in the middle of the day and was shocked at how long it took me to remember the significance of the day. In a way, I suppose that is healing. For the families of the victims, though, do you suppose they ever heal completely?
I was in California that day, on the last day (literally) of my summer break from Northwestern. Of course, that break got extended, since I couldn't get on a flight back to Chicago for a few more days. I remember watching the terrible footage, watching the people jumping from the buildings, thinking, "This MUST be fake. It can't be real." It just boggles my mind how human beings can do such unspeakable things to one another. I know that is a very simplistic thought, but I always get tripped up on it. Religious, political, ideological differences aside ... how does one human being decide, "Hey, I'm going to come up with a plot to kill thousands of other people"? Ugh.
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