730 days
I intended to write something profound and meaningful about this day, but I find myself just feeling thankful that the date is almost past. September 10th and September 12th are infinitely more innocuous than the date that falls in between them.
I'd like to recite some heartfelt platitude that would resonate with someone else on this day, but I find that all the heartfelt platitudes have been ruined for me over the past two years by those who would use them toward an end with which I cannot and will not agree.
What I will tell you is this: on this day of memory, I feel cheated. It is petty and selfish for me to feel this, but in the interest of full disclosure, this is how it is. For the twenty-four years that preceded that day, I lived with the steadfast belief that people are fundamentally good, and that no matter what difficult problems we faced as a country or as inhabitants of this planet, we would eventually be able to solve them -- perhaps not in my lifetime, but someday. By the time I went to bed that night, I could no longer hold onto my firm convictions that in the end, everything will turn out alright. Everything did not turn out alright that day.
I have lived an incredibly privileged life. I've been taught of hubris from a young age. The unsinkable ship sunk in 1914, we were told, and yet no one ever imagined that the indestructible towers could ever be destroyed. It is privilege which breeds hubris, for only we, the privileged, can afford such pride. The turmoil in other parts of the world was never more than a blip on the news or a headline on the page. I didn't ignore it out of hatred; I ignored it because I didn't understand that for other people on the planet, things don't automatically turn out alright in the end.
Today, I looked in the mirror, and for the first time, I noticed the tiny crease of laugh-lines forming at the sides of my mouth. I'm certain they weren't there two years ago. It's a tiny change, to be sure, but it is a permanent one. The changes I've seen in the world -- the changes I've seen in myself -- are less subtle, but just as long-lasting.
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Rachel, I've been reading over this post for 2 weeks, trying to formulate a response. The truth is, I agree with you in almost every sentence. This event scared the wahoo out of me, changed my entire perception of the world I grew up in. It was a hard and terrible wake-up call, and if it never happens again, it will be all too soon.
I don't think there's anything that can really be said. It's one of those things that just changes us inside so dramatically that it just renders us unable to speak.