I live in a little town outside of a big city. Now usually on a beautiful Saturday afternoon my little town is buzzing with activity. Not today. As I walked along the streets it was ghostly almost. Somber. Flags flying. Quiet. Yes there were people about, but no smiles and cheery hellos. Was everyone remembering today in fear or sadness or both?
I walked to the track near my home and completed my run and sat down by the river to cool down. I closed my eyes and felt myself being pulled back to that day, as if something had grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me back into time. I saw myself standing in my office in a group of people just staring at the television, frozen in time. I remember that after we were sent home from work, the only place I wanted to go was to my parent's home. The safe house.
How arrogant we were back then, always thinking that events like this would never happen here, who would dare, not possible. That was then. Now, lesson learned, one would hope. I look forward now to tomorrow. To going out my door, walking down my streets and feeling life in those streets again. How fortunate I am to have that second chance.