Monday, May 2, 2011
MAY 1, 2011: WHERE WERE YOU?
May 1, 2011. Where were you when you found out?
I was in bed early this morning when I read the news. With little to no access to a television or the internet on Sunday, I finally got around to checking Twitter when I woke up at six in the morning. I read the headlines. I shook my head. And I cried.
I remember thinking that it would never happen, that after so many years, the possible had become the improbable, and the improbable had eventually become the impossible. And I accepted that. I think most of us did. There's only so long you can hold on to hope before it slowly begins to disappear, and I think we were all at that point. I think we had all come to terms with the fact that it probably wasn't going to happen in our lifetime. That what feels like decades of torment would see no resolution.
I still haven't been able to completely wrap my mind around it all. So surreal is the news that even though Google assures me that this is something that actually happened, I still haven't ruled out that it was some crazy realistic dream that I just can't seem to shake. I suppose there are many people who share the feeling.
How many lives can one man affect? It seems like we all have our stories. Which is why, when the news broke, people poured into the streets, held hands and sang in unison. They hugged. They cried. Strangers moments before, now standing together like lifelong friends. That's what moments like this do to people. It brings us closer. It bonds us. Unites us.
Today, I caught eyes with a woman fixing her coffee at Dunkin Donuts and I smiled. She smiled back. Maybe she was just being polite, maybe one had nothing to do with the other, but, on a day like today, I can't help but think that everyone is feeling the way I feel. That everyone is thinking the exact same thing. That the lady in Dunkin Donuts and I shared a moment, even if we didn't. That's just how today feels.
Because we've all been waiting for today. Because we never thought it would happen, and now that it has, we don't know what to think or how to act. We just want to share this moment with someone. Anyone. Which is why I'm sharing it with you.
Today, I'm relieved. Excited. Nervous. Overjoyed. I'm proud and I'm conflicted. I suppose we all are. It may take a little while for some people to understand the magnitude of it, or to even believe it – myself included – but eventually it will all sink in. Emotions will subside and minds will have had a chance to process what it is that actually happened. And then we'll all see things a little more clearly. We'll put this moment in its proper context. But, for now, I can't help but think that this is an event I'll remember like my father remembers the Kennedy assassination and my brother remembers the Challenger...
Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?
May 1, 2011.
The day Emilio Bonifacio hit one over the fence.