It’s been six years since planes were hijacked and our paradise was shattered.

The world stood still that day, joined together in shock and tragedy. Americans stood in the disbelief of fallen buildings and planes and a broken sense of invincibility. We saw a glimpse of ourselves, not in the image that we created, but how we were viewed by those outside. That day, we became less arrogant and a little more like everyone else. Because of what we saw that day, the world changed.

I was a freshman in high school when it happened. Someone in my geometry class had heard something about planes hitting the World Trade Center but I didn’t think much of it. In my next class, we spent the entire period watching the events unfold on live television.

By the time we realized what had happened, the planes had already hit and the first building had just fallen. I remember my teacher telling us to watch closely because this was the worst attack on America since Pearl Harbor, and that we may never see anything like it again. Most people didn’t even hear her; we all just kept staring at the screen.

For the next week, many television networks had continuous coverage of what happened that day. The images of explosions and falling ash were tattooed in all of our minds. For the next month, every plane that flew in the sky was eyed suspiciously by everyone on the ground. The chances of something happening as we watched were infinitely slim, but we still looked up. For the next year, there was an odd feeling of unprecedented solidarity in government, national morale and everywhere.

Then we moved on.

The years passed, each with its own two-hour anniversary special news report. Some cable networks aired the original coverage of the attacks, letting the chilling events unfold in real time again. We heard the stories of bravery, heroism and those of terror. A few movies were released, recreating the chaotic moments when a plane was hijacked or a firefighter rushed into a burning building. On those days every wound seemed fresh, like it had just happened yesterday. But then we moved on.

And here we are today, more than six years later.

Phrases like “terrorist attack” and “threat level” are thrown around like hollow shells of the significance they once held. Osama bin Laden tapes grab our attention, only to vanish soon after like the man himself. The daily headlines of a rising death toll in Iraq do little to derail, let alone upset, our daily routines.

And then there is that number that gives a sharp, fast pull to our heartstrings: 9/11.

What do the dates 10/12/02 Bali, 7/7/05 London, and 8/25/07 Hyderabad mean to us?

When something catastrophic happens, our sense of security can be shattered. In the face of fear and uncertainty, we can only hope to be able to move on. It’s in our nature to want to return to normalcy, to show the world that we are not fazed by the horror that we’ve seen. Yet, after that day six years ago, we have moved on and somehow, something is missing.

The other day I read an article from Slate Magazine titled “Squandered Sympathy?” The piece, which was written on Sept. 10, 2002, had snippets from international newspapers that commented on the year after the terrorist attacks. I found what Britain’s Independent had to say hit the mark:

“Contrary to what was widely asserted at the time … the world has not changed. We are not a better, more thoughtful people. Indeed, our collective life over the past year has in many respects seemed even more trivial. Nor has the sense of global solidarity survived the backwash to normality. The U.S. has become more outward-looking, but with eyes that do not see.”

Today is Sept. 14, 2007, six years and three days later. And we are left wondering, when did our view of ourselves and the world become so unfocused?