I’m finding this year tough. I find myself switching the television off when the anniversary specials are on. The last few years, I was glad to be forcing myself, feeling the pain, crying, yelling, ranting. This year is hard though. Maybe because 5 years is a milestone anniversary. Maybe because the world is so polarized now. I just find myself avoiding it more and more. And telling myself that I am allowed to avoid it, because I haven’t forgotten, and I haven’t forgotten who to blame. I want everyone else to watch the towers burn and fall, over and over, because they need to remember, but not I.

Normally I would force myself to read things like Peggy Noonan’s I just called to say I love you. This year I can’t. I just can’t. I wonder if it’s because I spend every day of the rest of the year focused on those who seek our destruction. Focused on the lives lost to the false God. The indignities and injustices brought about by the followers of evil. The coming of the Third World War (which has already begun, but no one wants to name).

Here’s a question: What were you doing on September 10th? It occurred to me today that everyone has a story about where they were and what they were doing/eating/wearing/watching on September 11th. But can anyone remember what that Monday had been like? Do they remember the feeling of average, of normal? I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon with Mr. Right trying to piece it together, and we can’t. We can’t remember the normal.

Relationships have changed since then, I know that much. Kathy always speaks of her “September 10th friends”. I know what she means. I have cut ties to those who parrot the they deserved it nonsense. The girl I spent September 11th with, my very best friend on the whole planet (and probably other planets, though I haven’t checked) - we don’t talk anymore. We’re too different. She hates America. Hates Bush. And I guess she must hate me, too, because of the turns my own emotions and life have taken since the fall of the Towers. I have chosen to face the demons sent by the desert devil, and use my loud voice to decry their presence among us. She has chosen to take her news from Jon Stewart and bury her head from that which is real and frightening.

Today I understand how she feels.

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 9th, 2006 at 6:38 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.