Sunday, September 4, 2011

Ten years

The past few days, I have been thinking of the anniversary. 9-11.

It is surreal to me that my children, that the children I teach at church, that most children, either were not here before that day, or will never remember America before that day.

I lived in Hattiesburg. My room-mate frantically woke me that morning, crying, telling me to watch because she couldn't tell. So we did, all day. I moved from my couch to another friend's couch and from there, we stayed glued to the television all day. I think we left the apartment once, to wait in a 2 hour line for gas because that is what people do in the wake of national tragedy, fill their tanks with gas. What else is there to do?

I can not tell you specific ways in which my life has changed as a result of 9-11. I guess, in reality, not in many ways. I still have a roof over my head, a car to drive, family to love, a life to live. I am so blessed in comparison to so many that lost real, tangible things that day, that sacrificed so much that day. But my life DID change on September 11, 2001. I can not put my finger on it, can not put it to exact words. But there is a bit of sadness that lingers from that day, attached to the person I am today. There was no transformation from child to adult, no loss of innocence that would make the day more poetic. Yet, I do think that something stirred up in me, that the stirring mixed up my world, caused me to see things differently. Within 9 months of 9-11, I got engaged and married, moved and formed this life I live and love now. Maybe the cliche is right, maybe I did lose some of that innocence, nievity. Maybe I did grow up, gain perspective. I don't know. I only know for certain that the day became a part of me.

Ten years. I haven't wanted to recognize it because for some reason, it feels a betrayal to have gone on with life for a whole decade. It is no longer something that just happened only moments, days, months, even a few years ago. Does that even make sense? It just doesn't feel right to have it a part of our history when it is still so raw. I guess that is it. Why do we need to remember it when it's still right there beside us? I think, for those of us old enough to remember, it will always feel that way.

1 comment:

Aunt Vickie said...

I was in Kentucky visiting Daddy and Mae, when a friend woke me with a telephone call and said, "turn your television on." I could feel the horror in his voice, and I just asked, "What channel?" He said, "It doesn't matter." I did, and then Daddy, Mae and I spent the rest of the day on the couch, glued to the television set, sharing the pain, crying together off and on all day.

Sunday night on the 10th anniversary, I was irresistably drawn to watching every minute of anniversary coverage I could from the time I got home from work til well after midnight, and cried fresh tears almost the whole time, as if it was just happening... that's how fresh it still is...

Oh, Father, God... help us, keep us, watch over us... thank You for Your promises that Your good will overcome the evil of the world...