Anniversary

September 11

Eight years ago.

I was sitting at my computer like any other day, having sent the kids to school, checking my email and going through my morning routine. Happy and oblivious.

I saw the newsflash on AOL. I didn't believe it. I turned on the TV and I saw the second plane hit the Twin Towers.

I thought this might be it.

You know, it. The End.

When you grow up, as the child of politically engaged Russian émigrés, with the perfect awareness that the Bad Guy is not a fictional construct and that They Are Really After You, anything of this magnitude will glue you to your seat with a mixture of fear, fatalism, and helpless fascination.

Add to that a lifelong preference for fantasy and science-fiction, and you start building scenarios for the counter-strike and retaliation once you realize that it's not an accident.

And you've seen War Games. You know there can be no winner.

Fortunately, they've seen War Games, too.

But there is one realization that doesn't go away.

Someone has done this on purpose. Someone took several civilian planes and used them as weapons. Someone broke the most basic rules of engagement. Someone perpetrated an uncivilized, barbaric act worthy of the darkest moments of the most dramatic post-apocalyptic movies. Something that would have driven Mad Max to tears.

Today, we have monuments to our losses. Memorials. A minute of silence. A moment of rememberance. The president spoke briefly on the occasion. The local newspaper has a small front-page note. Google doesn't have a touching graphic attached to its name.

Has it been so long? Aren't we angry any longer? Almost 3000 people died in one day. I can't believe it wasn't yesterday. It's one of those moments that will always be there. Right in front of me.

Because like eight years ago, it's unbelievable.