If you've watched the news today, you've probably seen that the new I-35W bridge will likely open next week, perhaps even by Tuesday.
I've known for a while that the day will come -- and come soon -- that the new bridge will be completed. Cars will zip and zoom across and commuters will be on their merry way. I'm sure the first few times they will think about the new bridge and the old one, and what happened there but a handful of months ago. For those whose commutes have been altered, getting back to 'the old way' is a godsend. Sometime soon -- and the moment will vary for all -- they will forget and life for them will return to normal.
That notion makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me anxious, frustrated and irritable. It's as if the moment that changed my life and 170 others forever fades for most others. I'm forever impacted; they're no longer inconvenienced.
When I lived in Washington, D.C., I often bicycled around the Tidal Basin, soaking in the sun, the tourists and the scents from the cherry tree blossoms. I'd make my way to the Lincoln Memorial and inevitably there would stand a portable shack where inside stood a Vietnam veteran selling his memorabilia and reminding everyone never to forget. I'd shake my head and think to myself, 'Why is this man wasting his time? The Conflict is in the history books. Move on with your life.' But now it makes sense. The experience is tattooed on his corneas. It acts as a filter for all he sees. He can't let it go. And it hurts him to see others letting it go and he cannot do the same.
I don't know how other bridge survivors feel. I'm sure some will drive on the new bridge and not bat an eye. Others may choose to never cross it at all. But I don't see how any of us can simply move forward and let it go. For better or for worse, it is now a part of who we are.
Garrett
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