At some point of yesterday I looked at my calendar and realized today's date. September 11, 2009. It was at that point that I remembered the events of eight years ago today. But mostly I thought about the fact that I had almost forgotten to look toward this date with any more attention than I would any other.
As I write this I am sitting in the same place I was at the same time of the morning watching Good Morning America just as I was on September 11, 2001. I remember that morning, drinking my coffee, one eye on the newspaperer,one eye on the television. And then everything changed. The coffee cup was abandoned, the newspaper fell to the floor, as my eyes watched what was unfolding, live, before my very eyes. This was not a movie. This was for real.
The days that followed were filled with people reaching out to one another. We held on more tightly to those we loved. We called family just to hear their voices. We searched for answers and felt a unity in this country that had not been felt for some time. We ate food that comforted. And we prayed. We prayed for those directly affected in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. We prayed for those who had perpetrated such acts. We prayed for ourselves and the return of normalcy.
We are now eight years from this event that many say 'changed us forever'. Babies born that year are now in elementary school. Those in middle school and high school who sat at their desks watching as terrorism gripped their nation, unsure what this meant in their lives, are now in college or working in the world. Many are now parents. Those of us who were adults have gone on doing what has been required of us at work and at home. In eight years, nearly a decade, much changes. Our memories fade and we can almost forget even the worst of experiences.
On this September 11th, it is not so important to me to remember the devastating events of that morning and the mornings that followed. It is not so important to remember the horror, the fear, the confusion. What is important, I believe, is to try to conjure up the memory of how it felt to be so completely united in our humanity. It is important to remember how it felt to look into the eyes of another and know we were deeply connected. In those days that followed we learned what held us together, what simple things really brought pleasure to our lives. Things like eating with friends, the beauty of a clear, blue autumn sky, the sound of geese flying overhead, the gentle touch of another human hand.
Then there is that praying thing. It seems to me it is still important to remember how our prayers held us together across faith traditions and no traditions. In those days we all held out the hope that something larger than ourselves walked with us, grieved with us, cradled us in a hope for what seemed an uncertain future.
And yet here we are, eight years later. And I almost forgot to remember.
"At night I wait for a sign in the wind, a stillness in the cold, black water before jumping from the rocky ledge, knowing my body must find its way through darkness. I begin each dive like the first time-a whispered invocation." Amy Uyematsu