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Sunday, September 11, 2011

Do I Remember?

That beautiful Atlanta morning of blue sky and crisp air, I sat at my standard issue blond-wood desk in my grey-blue tweed cubicle in the regional administrative office of Charles Schwab, my eyes glued to a computer screen, my face in my hands, the whole office, normally bustling with laughter and conversation this hour of the morning, gone completely quiet - twenty-five friends, a work-family, tip-toeing around in stunned silence and confusion. I think I'd have gone home, but at home I'd have been completely alone, and I couldn't imagine myself alone in those moments, so I stayed there, at my desk, staring in shock-blotted numbness as a grey cloud of terror and fear and sadness and grief and disbelief spread itself like an evil shadow across the cities, the faces, the hearts of this country.

The ashes. I remember the ashes.

Of course I remember.

But the question I wish I'd ask myself more often is about what I do with that memory, and the memory and knowledge of this and other similar tragedies in our world. What's my contribution to the legacy of all and everyone that has been lost? How do I make sure anger and hatred (and selfishness and racism and apathy and greed or even just misunderstanding) don't win in the places where I can personally make a difference?

How do I continue to make the action of remembering bigger and stronger and more powerful to change than what we've all been left here to remember?



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2 comments:

  1. I think we all remember exactly what we were doing on that horrendous day and ask that same question. One thing we all have to do is encourage each other to continue to live in unity and express love and kindness where ever we are.

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  2. Beautiful post Megan. It gave me chills.

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Thoughts?