It goes without saying that most everyone will give pause as to the significance of September 11, whether it be some formal moment of silence in a crowd. Or it be alone and you just stop and think, "Yeah...I remember."
I was going to blog about my day, that day. Once written, I re-read it and thought it sounded trivial and mundane, because aside from the bombings, my day was trivial and mundane. Home from work, arguement with cheating slimeball ex-boyfriend, lots and lots of television. My experience, like everyone else who wasn't directly involved in some manner, is important to me because it validates my connection to that day. When the next generations ask me what I remember, I can tell them about maniacal lines of people at the gas station, the psych class I played hooky from, and the fear I felt that day. I can relay the sadness I felt whenever I thought about those people on that airplane, calling loved ones from their cell phones, knowing they would never speak to them again. If you were in their shoes, what would you tell your family?
We will all remember, just as our grandparents remember what they were doing when Pearl Harbor was hit. Just as our parents remember what they were doing when Kennedy was assassinated. What will be the horrific event that our children will recall?
Yes, I will remember September 11, it's images burned into my mind. A day where the worst of the human condition was exposed, but also the very best.
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