A day late
All day yesterday, I swore I was going to make some sort of post about 9/11 and all day I didn’t. Last night when I got home, I swore I was going to sit down and write out my thoughts but then things needed to be taken care of: the roommate, Brandon’s new cd, my swank new camera, dinner. I think I also didn’t make the post because I didn’t know what to say, and to be honest, I’m sure the internets could do without yet another blog post about the significance of yesterday.
Yesterday was a day of remembrance, a day when you asked coworkers, “So where were you?” I was asleep, for the record. I got out to the television in time to watch the first tower collapse. The topic of discussion yesterday was whether or not we’d jump. Disturbing enough when it came up once and downright panic-inducing when brought up a second time. I discovered yesterday that thinking about 9/11 too much makes me nervous, jittery, sick to my stomach, and panicked. My throat is closing up just typing this.
Yesterday I thought about the children. The children left behind and the ones being born into this post-9/11 country, a country full of open hatred and racism. I fear for them, growing up in a world like this in a country like this. Religious fanaticism, bigotry, greed, corruption, deception – pre-9/11 America was mockable for its bad manners, mass consumption, and insular thinking. Now it’s us (pardon the pun) against the world. They are bad, we are good. They have bombs meant to kill people, we have bombs meant to protect people.
I observed 9/11 yesterday privately, in my mind and heart and prayers. I didn’t need to wave a flag to prove I remembered, nor did I need to attend an event or listen to Dear Leader speak last night. I grieved for those we lost, for those we have taken away from others as a result, and for the confusion that reigns supreme in the world today.