I'm sure I wasn't the only one who spent a few minutes yesterday ruminating on 9/11. Sixteen years already? I was only 20 years old when it happened.
I've written before about where I was when I first heard about the terrorist attacks. What I thought a lot about yesterday, however, were the anniversaries that have occurred since then and the many reminders I've had about the attack.
When we lived in Brooklyn, Paul and I walked to the shore in Bay Ridge on the anniversary once or twice, watching the beams of light shoot forth where the twin towers used to stand. I worked just a couple of blocks from Ground Zero in Lower Manhattan and almost daily watched the progress at the World Trade Center site from 2007 until 2012. I visited the National September 11 Memorial when I was pregnant with Edith more than five years ago.
But now 9/11 seems almost like just another day. It'll never truly be that -- I remember the feelings and the images of that day all too well. But the TV specials, the memorials, the remembrances: they just aren't as all-consuming as they once were. We remember, though, and maybe that's enough.