Remembering

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about who I am, and what I know, in the end the search for identity and conclusion encourages movement...but not complete discovery. I'm happy where I am, I've accepted my past and my role in it. The future appears as a concave wide open space. Contradictory terms yes, complementary ideas, even more so.

I'm a girl who loves my sleep, especially my Saturday morning slumber. Scott woke up for work and we had our morning kiss before he left. Normally I roll over and snooze some more. That didn't happen this morning. I laid there thinking and thinking...thinking some more. Like so many other people my mind went to that place 3 years ago.

My friend Schanelle called me at 6 o'clock in the morning and was like turn on your tv. With sleep in my eye and my mind not working I was like, "What the fuck?!" She said the same thing again, put emphasis on it this time, "Just do it Wicci." I lived in my sorority house, my tv in my room didn't get reception...but Schanelle was adamant. I got up, walked to the living room and saw in live time the first plane hit the tower. I stood there, shocked, appalled and scared. I talked for Schanelle a couple more minutes. I think I dropped the phone. I called my mom. The next two hours I didn't move from the tv, not even to wake up my roommate Leann. I'd talk to my mom, then Schanelle, then Natalie...an endless stream of conversations, of shock, of pain.

My friend Marcie lived in NYC. I couldn't get a hold of her. She worked in Manhattan. Was she close, was she safe? I wanted to give her a hug.

There was this guy Dave I had chatted with online for years. He lived in the city too. I remember calling and calling only to be told in a lifeless electronic voice, "No service available."

Everybody I knew, knew somebody there. A whole nation effected.

I'm a proud American...I live in a strong nation...quite simply, things like this don't happen. Logic doesn't follow. I was in my senior year of college and while most campus' across the country canceled classes, mine didn't. I was a government major. I studied people, politics and war for enjoyment, and there I was disgusted that people could do this to one another. I went to class that day (Contemporary Political Theory) and for the first 20 minutes nobody talked. Professor Wingenbach was one of my favorite professors and he just stood there. An unplanned moment of silence. I'm convinced that we as a people can learn more by shutting up.

I went to another class that night, Creative Nonfiction 4. We had a service in the Chapel and my class went together. Professor Brody read a poem about living, and life. She described a beautiful day. A day of breath and air. During her reading she broke down and cried. I remember sitting next to her and giving her a tissue. I was 21 and I felt like I was 5.

I used to write all the time...If I was happy, sad, confused...scared. Putting pen to paper was comforting. I never wrote how I felt then, sure I talked about it, but writing about a memory, an experience gives it life, makes it real. I was stuck in a world where my naive reality was gone.

I used think government was good. I was wrong. After 9/11 we bombed Afghanistan because we thought Al Queda was there...but yet we somehow let so many of their leaders away. Bombs are not the answer.

I used to think we were logical people. I was wrong. There is no logic in the attacks. There is no logic in the aftermath.

I used to think things were simple and people were inherently good. I think I was wrong.

Call me a bleeding heart...a softie, a crybaby. I am a COMPASSIONATE person. I wish I could save the world from itself. We are all brothers in humanity and our woes are wasted energy. I sit here writing this scattered piece of shit and I have tears in my eyes. CNN is on in the background, parents and grandparents are reading the names of children and grandchildren lost. Its been three years, and the pain is still real.

We are called Generation X, people have given up on us. Let this be a call for us not to give up on ourselves.