Time Picks At All Wounds

I'm not one to post remember-the-Alamo type things, but after seven years, things are still pretty scabby, aren't they? This hasn't even healed to a scar yet - it's only stopped gushing blood.

The strangest phenomenon to me is the desire to avoid the date. Not avoid thinking about what it means or avoid it altogether by, like, sleeping through it (though I did attempt this morning, entirely by accident, and ended up with one of those brush-my-teeth-while-in-the-shower, do-my-makeup-at-red-lights kind of mornings). Rather, I try to avoid the actual date. When scheduling things, I flinch a little when it falls on September 11. When writing out a check or dating a report, I feel inclined to back-date or forward-date things. All activities should took place before or after, not on....like somehow even seven years later, it feels wildly inappropriate to just be carrying on with our lives and business on September 11.

But that's kind of all we can do - carry on. Make it work. Holler at your boy. All that Tim Gunn kind of stuff. (And crack reeeally half-hearted lame jokes in an attempt to look like we're recovering.)