September 12, 2002 - 11:50 p.m.
Note: This is the fourth in a five-day series on the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, what we felt then and what we've learned in the year since.
Today is Jon Guest's 20th birthday.
Jon is the closest thing I'll ever have to a brother. He moved into the house two doors down when he was 2, and for all intents and purposes, we grew up together.
I spent many many afternoons at his house and he at mine. We learned to ride bikes together (although he got his training wheels off much sooner). He broke my toys, I broke his. We've even been in a fistfight.
When my dad would attend honor ceremonies and things at school, he'd take two pictures: one of me and the other of Jon.
Jon even came to my mom's retirement party, reserved for "family and close friends."
His birthday, six months and four days after my own, is an occassion I forgot last year.
I was too wrapped up in national tragedy and personal heartache to remember an event which should have been the most important thing on my calendar that day.
I've never apologized to Jon for that.
I called him tonight. We talked, as old friends do. No discussion of "what's new" or "what have you been up to lately?" Just a simple recap of our respective days, as though we saw each other only moments ago.
The Sept. 11 attacks were a reminder to this country of a lot of things. They were a reminder that we are all human, and that our lives can be extinguished in the blink of an eye.
We learned that we are not a universally liked culture; that there are people out to destroy that which we hold most dear.
In retrospect, though, we learned to tell our friends and family we love them.
And in the middle of this "reminder," one year ago today, I forgot about that.
So to Jon, I say thank you for being a great thing in my life. I love you, and I'm sorry I missed your 19th.
Hope your 20th was a good one.
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