Four years

Never forget, they say. As if we could.

September 11.

You don't even need to add the year, because your mind will automatically fill in that space. Today, I will pray for those still attempting to fill their own empty spaces -- the families and friends of those who died.

There will be the inevitable news stories and, I see, one docu-drama about Flight 93 on Discovery Channel tonight. Though I won't intentionally watch any of it, I know I'll turn the channel and find the WTC collapsing. I used to think that we needed to see that footage once a month or so, just to remind us of who we're dealing with. But they have reminded us since then.

In Bali. In Madrid. In Beslan. In London. And always in Iraq and Afghanistan.

These are people that are directly opposed to us in every belief:

To us, every life is sacred. To them, every life is expendable.
To us, liberty is a right. To them, it's a sin.
To us, the law is a voice of reason. To them, it's the voice of Allah.
We cherish our children. They use them as weapons.
We hate brutality. They embrace it.
We operate out of hope. They are motivated by hate.

Our opposites. We'll never understand them. We'll never make them understand us. What we know or believe to be human nature doesn't exist in their case. It's almost like sharing the planet with another humanoid species -- it's hard to believe that we all come from earth. Yet we do, we have to share this place. Unfortunately, it would seem that co-existence is not an option.

I hate them for that lesson. I hate them for the world I must raise my son in. I hate that someday my son may have to deal, face to face, with his opposite -- a boy that was taught to hate liberty and life. A man that will carry no hope in his heart, other than the hope to kill and be a martyr.

Could we ever forget what this date taught us?

Not, I fear, as long as they exist to remind us.