We Will Never Forget

This morning, I walked out to the car to go to work. There were flags lining the street (it is a church service project - the flags are put out on federal holidays).

I stopped. And thought. And wondered what federal holiday I had missed and panicked about what to do with Woodstock (Miss Jan is closed on federal holidays).

And then I remembered.

"We Will Never Forget" - banners, signs, people, ads, music, artists shouted.

Except, seven years later, for a small moment, I had.

I was in Baltimore on 9/11/01. I knew people in NYC, at The Pentagon and people who lost family members and close friends. Just 12 months before I had been living across the street from The Pentagon. I picked up the phone and called my mom at work. The secretary asked who was calling. I said, "Her daughter in Virginia." The secretary made a little, shocked "oh" noise and paged Mom immediately. I longed to be somewhere safe - which, at the moment, was not standing on the twentysomethingth floor of a hotel next to one of the nation's busiest harbors across from another World Trade Center.

I came home to Navy fighter jets flying loaded, to a strangely silent, barren horizon as you looked over to the Naval Base from the HRBT. Not one ship stood at the pier.

I had nightmares for months. For five weeks I spent weekdays at my barren, quiet apartment and weekends with a friend. I couldn't stand being alone. I spent my lunch hours that week with colleagues at prayer services at the Baptist church across the street.

Himself and I passed e-mails back and forth through a Military censor - once a day. For that, I was extraordinarily fortunate. Others headed to the Gulf were not so lucky.

I stood and looked into the crater of Ground Zero and watched the neighboring buildings fall and rise over the course of 5 1/2 years on various trips to Manhattan. I watched the Pentagon rebuild as slightly paler bricks replaced the flag hanging over the burning crater in the wall. I watched as the new memorial began construction. Noted the subtle changes in life, in attitude, in fervor.

Each subsequent year, I observed the moment of silence for the Twin Towers and The Pentagon and Flight 93. I attended memorial services or contemplated where we were versus where we are. Time passed. I got used to carrying a small wallet, empty pockets and no liquids - to save time going through security at any place that seemed remotely significant.

Then, I moved to The Frontier and life changed so significantly, the little reminders were no longer there. I didn't drive by The Pentagon several days a week. There were no more random road trips or business trips to NYC. The only security I encountered was in the airport - which now just seems annoying rather than an invasion of a peace we took for granted.

And then, last year I brought Woodstock home from the hospital on 9/11. I watched the memorial service on TV as I nursed her, but my tears were for the pain in my body, the frustration with not being able to figure out how to feed one's starving infant rather than for the loss of life, of innocence of national security.

It was that thought that returned to me this morning in the shower - the memory of bringing Woodstock home for the first time, rather than the memory of loss.

We Will Never Forget - but we will slowly replace the sensations, the memories, the horror.

And I'm not sure how I feel about that.