I woke up this morning to a Baltimore Sun front page that looked like this:

I remarked to my father that I didn't remember ever seeing a headline like that, and he replied, "It's because nothing like this has ever happened." I vaguely remember the Boston Globe featuring a big headline the morning after the war in Iraq began, but I don't remember reading about 9/11 in the newspapers.


Today I scheduled a talk with a friend who had said something over the weekend that left me quite salty. We were on our way out of the school to the nearest Starbucks, walking through the lobby, when we stopped about 20ft short of the front doors. Behind the security guard's desk is an LCD screen, which was showing a community gathering at Virginia Tech to talk about what had happened. In front of us stood our a dean and three students. Two students, who I have come to know a bit, were especially distressed. I remember that both of them had graduated from Virginia Tech. The guy, who I was closer to, had graduated with a double major in three years, something ridiculous like Computer Engineering and Math. The girl stood with her hands over her mouth, still in disbelief. As she began, again, to shake with grief, the guy pulled her closer too him, wrapping his arm around her. They continued watching the coverage, listening to the brave yet wounded voices proclaim, "We are the Hokies!" As the girl straightened up, the guy, relieved of the duty of comforting another, fell apart. His resolve to be strong crumbled as he shook his head in disbelief and took deep uneven breaths to hold back the tears.

I stepped towards the door but was pulled to them. I hugged her first, briefly. When I hugged him, we held onto each other for a while, and in that moment of closeness, his grief touched me. I don't know if he lost any friends or friends of friends, but I could feel his overwhelming sadness. Our chests were pressed tightly against one another -- with each heaving breath, he moved me. My eyes welled up with tears, and I held onto him for as long as he needed. He let go, then I did, and I squeezed his arm.

My duty to be strong now done, I stepped outside and stood there on the sidewalk, crying.


My friend and I had a good conversation, cleared the air, made up. I can't help but think that I was tempered by my encounter with those who were suffering. Even if it's fleeting, I welcome a reminder of our fragility. We are vulnerable. We suffer, sometimes with reason, and sometimes without. None of us can predict when the arc of our lifelines will be cut. All we have are the present days, to make with them what we can.