The page has turned.
There is a qualitative difference this time around. Previous years were rife with remembrance. Sharp shards of unavoidable history.
But this year, I was hard-pressed to find them. What had previously been a deluge, now a trickle.
Maybe it’s me.
With the extraordinary adaptability of the human animal, I have subsumed you into daily life, feeling not terror, but wariness.
Such a lukewarm legacy. Was it worth it?
I see no time when our beliefs and cultures will mesh.
Enemies eternal. A common view, me and you. I bet it bothers you to share something, anything with the likes of me.
Like children in a schoolyard; one offering his lunch money, eager to make friends, form bonds, buy them if he has to. A little desperate to be liked.
The other filled with nameless rage and bared teeth, hating those whose very existence he feels invalidates his own. Acting out.
You envisioned a roar, but left only an echo.
Part of it is the passage of time.
But most of it is because I love my country with a ferocity that surpasses your fanaticism.
We’re still here.
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