I don't know how to feel. Should I weep, pray, protest? Be thankful or angry or grieving or at peace? It was a beautiful day today, still very much summer. The wind made the trees bow to one another and sent ripples across the grass like the surface of a pong, and I got a sunburn sitting on the quad after lunch. It was hard to believe that a year ago terrorists hijacked four planes to use kamikaze-style, destroying a chunk of New York skyline and countless personal dreams. It seemed too bright a day to have that sort of legacy - but then, was it sunny a year ago, too? I don't even remember.

Like Joy, I didn't go to any of the campus events today. All over campus, colored chalk letters asked me if I wanted "just and peaceful alternatives to war," asking me to come to a 10:15 vigil. I'm not in favor of war, but that's not what today's about for me. My vigil, before I go to bed at last, will just be me and the light of one candle.

I think what says most to me about how I've healed, though, is that today was pretty much a normal day. I took notes in biology; I laughed at jokes; I enjoyed the sunshine and the wind. Last night my prayers were for those near and dear to me: loved ones right here, struggling with day-to-day worries. And that's how I think it should be.