Today was a pretty regular Saturday. Slightly different, in that I got my hair cut early in the day, and needless to say, I don't do that every week. But it was otherwise a day of running errands, a few chores, watching a movie, fixing and eating dinner. With an evening that will likely involve watching a movie or some other recorded show, and/or reading and/or knitting. Tomorrow should be a pretty usual Sunday. Breakfast, a start to laundry, and then the bulk of the day working at Rosie's.
My life is fairly routine, when you come down to it, as I imagine most lives are. Very few people - at least that I know - have something exciting, different, or life-changing happen to them every day. Like most other people, I often wish my life had more going on. Then something has a drastic effect on my routine, and suddenly I appreciate a regular day, a regular life.
How many of us get up every single day, and embrace and appreciate every single moment? All of us would like to I daresay, but routine gives us a false sense of security, and none of us are perfect, so we get tired, annoyed, forgetful, and a lot of the time just hope we can get through any given day without any serious problems.
Thousands of people spent September 10, 2001 doing the usual, the routine, the non-extraordinary. They got up on September 11, 2001 and expected the same from the day, as a matter of fact were prepared for just that. Husbands, wives, children, siblings, friends, may or may not have said goodbye that morning in a conscious fashion, giving each other their full attention and making sure to say "I love you." And there shouldn't have been any reason for it to have been other than a regular day.
We all know that it wasn't, not for any of us. And even if we are able to go forward with our lives, falling once again into our routines, the date will remind us again every year to stop and remember. And pray. And be grateful. And most of all, to be hopeful. Because hope is what gets us up in the morning to face another regular day.
Moving forward doesn't mean we don't care, or that we have forgotten. It means that life goes on for us, the living. Regardless of the date, every day we have to get up, get moving, and if we are lucky, remember that we are still here to do so. And for all of the tragedy associated with the date of September 11, in any given year - including 2001 - there are those for whom it was one of the best days of their lives. People were born, people got a dream job, bought a house, fell in love. They have every right to celebrate, and should not have to apologize for it.
Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks. Our lives are not the same, no matter who we are or where we live. And each of us should pause for at least a few moments to say a prayer of thanks and remembrance, even to miss someone near and dear to us. I don't believe that we should feel any obligation to be sad the entire day, even if everyone else around us does seem to be.
Some things cannot be, and should not be, forgotten. But nothing should keep us from remembering to live. Because life is precious, even if it's not always exciting.
And that's what I learned for the millionth time - in a way I could have never imagined, and hope to never experience again - ten years ago.
I still have hope. And I think you should, too.