Five Years

Today, it has been five years. Five years defined by sadness, loss, anger, turmoil, injustice, confusion. Five years of fighting, discussing, talking, invading, analyzing, killing. In five years we have gone from leading a global coalition to being the global pariah. In five years, we have started to see some of greater effects of that day, which no one, not even for a minute, thought would just fade into history. The people who rushed downtown are left with lingering health problems. The people who enlisted, motivated by patriotism, are fighting a war in a country that was tenuously, if at all, linked to that day. And then there are the empty spaces in families and schools and businesses that will never ever be filled.

I know that I’m not really adding anything to the discourse. What I’ve said and felt and seen and heard, it’s all been said and felt and seen and heard by others who are wiser and more eloquent than I. It’s been said and felt and seen and heard by others who were more severely impacted than I. But I must write. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I can. Maybe it’s because I should, so I never forget. Maybe it’s because I must, to let out some of the pressure building inside, from all the feelings and thoughts and memories that have been bouncing around inside me since that day, five years ago.

I will never forget the disturbing beauty of seeing the rosy setting sun reflecting off the cloud that filled the sky where steel once stood. I will never forget that girl who rode her bicycle by me, sobbing. I will never forget the smell. I will never forget the fear and shock that poked at me like a million needles encasing my body as I gratefully continued living my life.