It is that day again, it comes once a year. On this, the 8th anniversary, it seems to be less and less visible. The 1st anniversary was a big deal, then the 5th, now it has kind of faded to grey.
The front page of the paper doesn't blare the headline, instead its buried on page A5 - a short story about how today is a day of service. I don't know how it is closer to the site, but 3000 miles away, the observances are much smaller. The flag at the bank across the street is at half mast, there is red, white and blue wreath at the bank tower where we go to Starbucks. I expect that many people pass it and don't give it a second thought. Surely, someone will look at that flag today and wonder why it isn't flying high, maybe they'll think "oh, that's right, its September 11th."
I can't help but think of the thousands of people who live every day with the memory of how their loved one died that day. The thousands who were there, close by when it happened. The ones who's daily lives have changed forever, in every way. The ones who's dreams are only nightmares now.
I remember that day and how it changed things - in the days that followed, we were all in it together. People were more friendly, more willing to help others. Blood donation centers has lines around the block, flags flew high. Now, 8 years later, we are a nation at war. At war with ourselves, each other and foreign enemies. Thousands died that day, thousands have died since that day in the name of that day. We have gone back to the way things were before. United we stand, divided we fall. What do we do now.