Author: Kara Gheldof Date Started/Finished: 9/12/04

Title: Landmarks I'll Never See
( [3 Years After (The Date in Question)]

I'd almost forgotten.

I can't believe I'd almost forgotten because it's on my mind every other day, if only in some small sense, a fleeting moment of melancholy, a random musing of loss, a character in a story I'm writing. It's faint, and it's not always instantly noticeable.

But still, I can't believe I'd almost forgotten.

It won't always be this way. People won't ever truly forget, not really, because history was established in those few hours on that one day. No, the world will not forget, but for most people it will slip their minds, on the date of even. After all, how many 17 year olds mourn on December 7th, much less are aware of its significance?

Putting it in that perspective, how will those in my generation - those not directly affected by the date in question - react in the future, I wonder.

I can picture it now.

Four years after September 11th we'll listen to the newscasters talk about that day but we won't pay it much mind overall. After all, we spent the third anniversary living life as we normally would; why should four be any different? With all that's going on, we'll feel that we should be doing more, but at the same time a part of us will realize the fanfare is in large part just embellishment, and by feeding it, we're only fueling it more.

Five years after September 11th we'll revel in how quickly the war was fought and how decisive our "victory" was, at least that's what the press says... Some of us may have fought in it, and of those only a small percentage may have seen action of any sort, but most of us probably watched its progress from our classrooms or our homes.

All of us, no doubt, will still be wondering what, exactly, our "victory" actually achieved.

Ten years after September 11th we'll witness on TV as the new towers are opened and viewed by the public for the first time. We'll stare up at our constructed accomplishment with impressive admiration and pride, but with a little bit of trepidation mixed in as well because this isn't just a building to us. And in the back of our minds, we'll be wondering how long will it last and whether this beautiful thing we've accomplished can be taken away from us again.

Fifteen years after September 11th we'll watch as our first child is born and we'll weep out of happiness that this child has two parents who are alive and who love it very much, because we'll realize that some children will forever remain a child, at least in part, because they never got to know their parents and never will.

Twenty years after September 11th we'll sit our children down and explain to them in the best terms we can: yes, this was a senseless tragedy, and yes, we did see it all on TV. "Who's to blame?" Very bad men.

Why did they do it?

And we'll pause, and revel in it.

"... I don't know."

Thirty years after September 11th we'll weep for the next big tragedy to hit us because we were so sure that day would be the last and we'll say "It was the most surprising attack since." and we'll think how silly we were.

Forty years after September 11th we'll shake our heads and say "isn't it a tragedy" because hindsight's 20/20 and we knew deep down that nothing would be solved in four months of fighting to achieve victory (or was it to achieve oil?).

Fifty years after September 11th our grandchildren will start to learn about it in their regular curriculum at school, the dates long since known to them as important dates, but not really understood why they are important.

The teachers will write the date on the chalkboard and stand back and say "Isn't it a tragedy?" because they don't remember and we'll help our grandchildren when they come to interview us because they're writing a paper. After all, "we were there". And we'll let our eyes glaze over as we sit back and recall; and we'll say "Isn't it a tragedy?" because we do remember.

Seventy-five years after September 11th we'll revel in the fact that we still remember September 11th. We'll watch the special on TV and cry real tears, mourning for a memory we wish our generation never had, but not really knowing why, or what our justification really is.

We'll scoff because the host of the special - that celebrity who has gained enough clout to earn himself such a respectable position in such an important documentary - is much too young to truly know the meaning of his job because he wasn't even alive when it happened.

And we'll think about all our children and their children and silently give our thanks because they knew their parents and grandparents, and we'll mourn for those who never got to know theirs because they were lost on that fateful day.

And we'll thank whatever god we have that we're alive today, and that our families are as well because some people still living today never got to know their families because they were taken away from them too soon. But at the same time we'll curse our god because they cursed us with the memory of that day and because they took something away from us then that can never be returned. We'll mourn because we never did get to see those amazing towers for ourselves and now we never will. We'll lament because we'll wonder if we're mourning because "it was such a tragedy" or because we feel bad for ourselves.

Most of all we'll mourn because we lost something we never had, through no fault of our own, something we're helpless to retrieve. Because now we realize our life's limitations - now that we are nearing the end - and we'll lament at all the things we never got to do even though we - unlike so many others - were given the opportunity,

and we'll mourn, for another landmark we'll never see.