9/11

Is it Katrina that makes the fourth anniversary of 9/11 seem like such a non-event? Or is it that after four years what seemed so definitively indelible, so indelibly definitive, inevitably starts to fade, at least for those of us who don't have gaping holes left in our own lives? Perhaps it's that today is a beautiful early autumn Sunday, blue-skied, like 9/11, but with a slight breeze, unlike the stillness that, far away in Red State, made that dreadful day seem unreal to the point of surreal. A bike ride seems the order of the day, not solemn reflection.

I know two people with birthdays today. One turns 14, but doesn't want a party because his whole family is still in shock from the death of his uncle, less than two months ago; still, the family is gathering and, knowing them, they are laughing and eating and squabbling, even as they are crying. The other turns 70 and played squash to celebrate. They are testimony, I suppose, to how life goes on, even as loss goes on, the one, I hope, giving sustenance in the face of the other.

Happy Birthday J!

Happy Birthday J!