Sitting here...laughing with Sweet Husband about silly things...realized tomorrow is 9/11.
It's a little melodramatic, I know. It's been...eight years now, and, I mean, after all, it's not like I knew anyone that died. And further, although it was a big attack, it's not like it's the first time terrorists or similar have killed a bunch of people. Why should it be any different just because some of them were American people? Why should it be any different just because that time it--very, very marginally--inconvenienced me?
Or is it the things that have happened after that get to me? The fact that, in many of the ways that count in my book, the terrorists did score a major victory that day...leading us to abridge the freedoms we hold sacred, bringing us down to their level with things like warrant-less wiretapping and torture....
Either way? Ugh.
And either way, I wonder...will there ever be a time in my life when the day passes without this weight? Will it ever be like the anniversary of Pearl Harbor or the day Kennedy was assassinated? A blip on the calendar that I notice every few years or so--certainly not something that makes my heart sink and my chest feel serious.
And, more to the point, will there ever be a time where I would want it to?