Today is September 12, 2011, ten years and one day after the attacks on our country.
I lived here in the DC area then. I was on my way to class in the city when the first plane hit the towers. As it became clear that it was not an accident, I made a u-turn and sped home. I would have been passing the Pentagon about the time the plane struck there had I continued on.
One of the articles I read online yesterday exhorted the reader to remember not September 11, but September 12 -- the day we were all kinder to one another, the day we remembered who we are as a nation. But I remember the days immediately following the attacks as days of sheer terror. The sky had been ripped open and we did not know what else was going to happen. Everything came to a complete stop; all we could do was wait and see what, if anything, would happen next. I, for my part, seriously doubted that life could ever be the same again -- and I don't mean pat-downs at the airport or the War in Afghanistan -- but whether I would have the time and freedom to marry my boyfriend, to have children, to have a life.
The article made me realize: I don't want to be the person I was on September 12, 2001. I am a better person not the day after, but a decade and a day after, because of all that I have been able to receive in the last ten years.
When I went out for my walk tonight, the moon was full and bright and only slightly obscured by wisps of cloud -- just enough to add some contrast and texture to the scene. Growing up, I was told that the sun is the "Light of Our Lord" and the moon, the "Lamp of Our Lady". The idea behind this symbolism, of course, is that the moon, like Mary, does not generate its own light, but gets its light from the sun (Son) and shares this light with the world.
That moon was like a companion along the way, especially because the neighborhood was unusually silent tonight. I did not meet a single person as I walked along, did not hear any voices, did not encounter one car. Yet, it was not unnerving but peaceful. It was like everyone was snuggled down in their houses remembering that this day could have not been. The moonlight bathing this little flock of homes made me think of gratitude, and of allowing ourselves to be led out of darkness.
2 comments:
And like the light of Our lady, it's nice to see other lights shine when they come out from under the bushel. Thanks for that. (And for turning around that day rather than going to class! - Your "boyfriend" is very grateful that he's had the opportunity to become more than that.)
Brava!
What a refreshingly optimistic point of view on the 10th anniversary. So often I hear the same--that things were better in the days immediately following. How comforting to see it from your point of view--that things are so much better now. Thank you for sharing.
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