The great forgetting has begun, and although I suppose I should be reassured with such glaring evidence that life does indeed go on, I've felt very alone all day in my remembering.
Breda puts more eloquently the same thought that I had last night. I spoke to roughly 40 people yesterday, and not one of them said a word aloud about the day. I did notice the boys at the elementary school putting the flag to half-staff, but didn't discuss it with them; I wonder if the parents watching it all thought about it. I was shaken, that day 7 years ago, and being shaken to that magnitude doesn't leave a person. I may occasionally pay no attention to the ache of that day, but it's never left me.
Labels: History, musing, Other blogs, The Fall Of Western Civilization, worry