I came home late last night, tired and ready to call it a day. Working, keeping up with the kids activities as they start a new school year, I hadn’t given as much thought to the events of September 11, 2001 as I had in previous years. I sat down for a moment to catch up with a few of my regular blog stops and came across “The Falling Man” at Faustas place. Without intending to I watched the entire hour and a quarter, barely breathing throughout.
All of the thoughts and feelings of that day came flooding back. Thoughts and feelings that in the span of a day changed me in every way that a man can be changed. I became a different person. Politically, spiritually, you name it. It was like I had been on a winding circular path in the center of an open valley for 40+ years where drowsily wandering from side to side off of the footfalls of previous travelers had no consequence. Finding the path again was an easy thing. Look down and there it was. Follow it or don’t. You could wander the fields surrounding the valley, laying down in the grass to rest from time to time. It didn’t matter as the path didn’t lead anywhere.
On September 12, 2001, I found myself on a straight path with a fall into the abyss hard on either side. I didn’t choose the new path, or I don’t really remember choosing it. I woke from a sleep in green grass and there I was. It has not been a pleasant walk as was the other. I can no longer simply look to the valley floor to see where I’m going and where I’ve been, resting when I am tired, following the crowd back to the path when I am lost. I know that it is a dangerous path but that it has a destination. I don’t as yet know what that destination is but I will reach it. I am tired but my eyes remain open.
Because I remember.