I found yesterday to be harder than I thought it would be, and I anticipated that it would be hard. In the end, I was glad that the anniversary fell on a Sunday; go here for more thoughts in that direction.
I resolved not to turn on the TV, and I didn't. But NPR did Sept. 11 programming ALL DAY. Impossible to escape. At first, I wanted to listen. So, I listened a bit as I got ready for church. Our church service, too, focused on Sept. 11. Just exhausting, in a way.
When we got home, we live-streamed Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion show, fixed lunch, ate lunch, and took a nap.
I tried to use the day to be grateful that I'm alive and in good health and that most everyone I love is alive and in good health. But that induces a bit of survivor's guilt. Why am I so lucky? And a bit of fear, because eventually, I won't be lucky in that way.
By late afternoon, I felt a bit better, and listened to the NPR programming as I prepared packets to send to journals and magazines. It seemed life affirming, in a small way, to continue with my normal activities, to send poems out into the world.
I'm glad the day is over, although I'm not looking forward to some of today's tasks at work. I'll try to focus on being glad that I'm alive and employed, even if it means I must go to strategic planning meetings about unpleasant situations and redo schedules and plans that have already been done. There are worse fates. Much worse.
Flypaper in The Comstock Review
2 months ago