I thought the anniversary of 9/11 would put me back into the place I was a year ago. Mentally, emotionally. It didn't do that. Not even close. Here's how I know. A more or less objective measure.
A clear memory from that day. Going to sleep, exhausted, bleary-eyed, drained, praying (and I don't pray this way) that when I woke up, it would be Tuesday morning again. The sky would be clear, the stories on the news would be of fires and traffic jams and everything would be normal. I woke up before the alarm on September 12, and just lay there, waiting. And when the radio came on, it was Wednesday. And nothing was normal. And I started to cry. Again. It was like that every day, for weeks. And then, finally, I got used to it. I still am. I can't imagine this world any more without 9/11 in its past.
So I'm not back there. And I never will be again.
