It’s September 11th. Every year, they play the archive footage and every year I sit and watch and cry. I still have vivid memories, snapshots, of what I was doing that day. It’s too horrible to think about. It’s still unfathomable to me. Why do I do this to myself.
Miss D is restless. She feels my emotions are strong but cannot grasp them. She knows I’m upset, but not why. She doesn’t know what else to do but stay close. Jumping on and off the couch, begging to be let outside only to come back in moments later. Finally settling snuggled against my leg, head in my lap, waiting to be stroked. Lifting her head to stare at me when I stop.
Eleven years. It feels like last week. I won’t learn to knit for another 2 years. My darling Checkers was 4, but we won’t meet for another 3 years. Miss D wasn’t even born yet. Not for three years. I’ve moved twice since then. Held three different jobs.
It’s surreal. This day. It’s even Tuesday, September 11th, again. I feel like this day just should not happen again. Like these events have left a physical scar on the calendar itself. They retire hurricane names, why not dates? We should go from the 10th straight to the 12th. Skip the 11th altogether.
The footage ends, and a commercial touts the latest ridiculous “reality” show. Surreal.
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