I wasn’t going to write anything today. Just to see the date on the screen is enough of a reminder to take a few minutes and remember. Every year passing sends 2001 farther and farther into history. And though I’ve never been the biggest fan of history, it’s hard not to say something when you happen to be someone who lived through one of its major moments, someone who also writes.
But what do I say? What can I possibly say if I’ve always resisted the temptations of politically charged language? If I’m the sort of person who still isn’t quite sure what happened, why it happened, and what’s going on in the world as a result? If I’m the type who didn’t even know what the World Trade Center was until it wasn’t?
I guess all I can say about today is that I’m lucky I didn’t know anyone who died. I didn’t know anyone who was even there. I am lucky to be feeling so removed on this tragic anniversary. I know I’m lucky, and I count my blessings and empathize with those who suffered so much more deeply than I did. I don’t know what more to do or to say. But I couldn’t just gloss over the date and write just another post about drying carpet or fetus hiccups.
So I guess I’ll do that tomorrow.