Rhymes With Fuchsia

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Seven Years Later

Twice in my life I've experienced days when I kept saying, "This can't possibly be real; I must be about to wake up," knowing all the time that I was truly awake. The first was the day Taz's tumor was diagnosed; the second was 9/11. Only, on 9/11, the rest of the country went through it with me. We had felt complacent and secure; it seemed that nothing could touch us. We went through mourning for that careless ease and anger at the evil men who had taken it from us. It seemed impossible that I could find my bearings again.

A year later I wrote:
As for me, as the anniversary of 9/11 approaches, the only way I can try to make sense of it is to try to learn from it, and to act on what I've learned.

What have I learned? Life is short. Love is what makes me human. Ignorance breeds fear. Fear breeds hatred. Hatred can destroy me from within, if I let it. We all need each other. Freedom is precious.

So...

I will not let anger at monstrous evil turn me into a monster. I will not let the monsters win.

I will hug my kids and enjoy my friends and smell the flowers and tell my husband I love him every day.

I will give to charity, both money and time.

I will get to know people who are different from me.

I will not sweat the small stuff.

I will not hold petty grudges.

I will be kind. We all do and say stupid things: I will cut others slack, as I would have it cut unto me.

Of course I don't live up to these ideals all the time (especially the last three), but they still work for me.

3 Comments:

  • Amen! Please post this every year. It's a good reminder.

    By Blogger Roxie, at 9:35 AM  

  • I try to do these things to... fail often, but keep trying! That same week I lost my friend Leonard (I think I posted about this back a bit). I was teary for days and days.

    By Blogger knitnzu, at 10:03 AM  

  • First thing for me was: who of my neighbors are on planes? Everyone came out into their front yards that morning, checking flight numbers, where's J, which United flight is H on, did R land yet or is he still in the air, can you get through to S--the familiar crisis mode of women accustomed to handling things.

    Then I thought, it's finally happened. Now this country knows what it's like, too. My inlaws spend months afraid to go into London because of bombings--that used to seem faraway. Not anymore.

    No one could sleep.

    Everyone was drinking more.

    And then the rest of the nightmare began.

    By Blogger Liz, at 10:29 AM  

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