I love early September. The air begins to cool and the sky (usually) is a perfect blue with big, white puffy clouds. September is always about new beginnings to me. It’s the time to make resolutions, plan your hopes and dreams for the year and begin to move forward toward accomplishments. September means a new year, not January.
But there is always a week or so in September where I turn inward. My mood dips and my memories return and I’m on the verge of falling. Some years I can ignore what lies in my past and some years I can’t.
I lost three friends on September 11th. There is video of the moment they died – video that the media plays again and again as if it’s just planes and buildings and not people. I get angry when…well, I just get angry…because for most people that morning and the remembrance of it is more of a psycho-social historical point – a national tragedy – with all those lives lost. When you think about it as a whole somehow it isn’t personal.
I think about it and I remember laughing and drinking in Shawn’s room with all the boys of the third floor. I remember Lynn always being so sweet and nice. Admittedly, they were more close acquaintances than friends. But then I remember Coffey, big and adorable and kind with great big arms and a sweet smile. I remember lying on the couch with him one Sunday afternoon watching Popey the movie and laughing because I loved it so much simply because it was so awful…and how the last time I saw him he wouldn’t speak to me because I’d done something neglectful and stupid. I remember how young and fresh we all were. I remember the people, I see the moment their lives were snuffed out played over ad nauseam for media ratings and I hear stupid comments made by people who didn’t even know a single person that day. And I get angry. And I can’t breathe. And all I want to do is cry.
But I won’t. I’ll run. Something I think is pretty fitting especially because of Shawn and Lynn. I’ll run and run and run until my legs or my lungs give out and I’ll have an hour or two of silence. From the constant babble of the t.v. From the memories of their loss and the downward spiral I took after. From everything.