Once again, as I have for the past four years, I woke up incredibly early, my subconscious prepped for a quiet solitude of sunrise reflection. I exchanged my annual phone and text messages with my fellow volunteers as I have every year on September 11th and then went about my day.
Eight years is an emotional eternity and yet a blip in historical perspective - the world moves on and the event is a now a political pawn. The experiences of those who lived through the day are shared privately vs publicly and perhaps that is as it should be. I am always saddened by America's lack of history and ability to commemorate the fallen in a unified way - something akin to Israel's moment of silence on memorial day. Now, more than ever this missing moment highlights the festering wounds.
My thoughts and prayers are with the families and friends who lost loved ones on that tragic day. They are the only ones who truly understand the cost of terrorism.
Some past reflections:
Three years - view from the west
Day of: events of the day[from Peter Merholz's blog as my original post lost in the cloud]
[Photo credit: Absolutwade]
