Eptembersay Levenay

She watched the news that morning; I was getting ready for an interview, and I'd planted her in front of the TV. Age 4: that's a plane and an angel, and two dead people and a bad guy. And a building.

It seems the sentiment is this: that after five years it's long enough: now we can watch movies about it, have TV anniversary specials running back-to-back. Five years--the op-eds are popping up already: these landscape assessments from retired colonels or widows.

And yet, for me, every year before this one was somehow easier. This year, it sits in the back of my neck in a hot, tight knot. This year there's less of a distance to travel from everyday stress to tight-chested anxiety.

So off with the TV. I see the towers against a blue sky and I click the x in the upper-right corner. I'm not watching; I've got that spool already.