September 11, ten years later.

It’s something how every year it seems my reflections are different upon this date. Some years it has been upon the way that our government handles, or does not handle the issues of its people in the aftermath of this tragedy. Some years I have thought about the families and friends left behind in the aftermath of this and other disasters in our country. This year, I feel bad because I remember how wrapped up in my own stuff I was and how I could have been a better friend to the people I know who were closely affected by the events of September 11, 2001.

My husband is Indian, but he has been subject to all kinds of shade at the airport because of his appearance. When I have traveled with him, we’ve had our luggage swabbed for explosives, we’ve had our luggage opened and searched and we’ve been patted down. This was before September 11. Therefore, I was really concerned about what our family would face in the aftermath.

I expressed these concerns to my friend, who had recently moved out of Manhattan and things just have not been the same between us since. I’m really sorry because she was a great friend and I should have been more sensitive. Fear is so awful that way. It makes people really selfish and sort of stupid. At least that has been the effect on me.

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