The other day, I took a long bike ride in a new direction....back in time. It started out as an exploration of an overland route just for bikes. It winds through farmland and forest. At one interscection, I turned into a park with a pravillion, a beautiful eagle-topped white memorial and a pool. The place was closed for the night so I peddled back out to the bike road and found a really great cafe and museum about a half mile away. There were tables and lanterns and music and laughter. There was also this tank. In front of it was a memorial to a foreign soldier.

When I visited the site of the Twin Towers in NYC, the sense of loss was still so sharp. Looking at this tank and the bench and listening to the cafe sounds, I realize that for these people, loss has been interwoven into who they are. It isn't forgotten, it is honored. It just no longer stops them in there tracks. It gives me hope. There will be a time when we can remember and accept and still dance because we are still here.On my ride back to the house, the fields were no longer empty. The sky held echos of parachutes and soldiers who once passed this way with purpose.

Time rounds the sharp memories. In 30 years, the pain is almost forgotten and the purpose remains. In 30 years, the joy fades. Marking it, recording it and sharing it reminds me of what matters.