Until today, there were no physical reminders of the July 7 bombings. They weren't needed.

Just last week while riding the Tube home from work, the train ground to a halt in between stations.

After several minutes of sitting in the uncomfortable heat, a voice broke through the silence explaining our train could be stuck for some time as there were problems with a train at the next station.

Although we had no idea what the problem was, there was fear in the eyes of the man across the aisle and the woman standing by the door clenched her purse tightly.

It's possible their thoughts had jumped back to July 7, like mine. But it was only the subtle movements and looks of those around me that betrayed our secret fears.

Last week, in preparation for FOX New's coverage of the one-year anniversary, all of us at the London bureau were surveying locations for live shots. At Tavistock Square, where the number 30 bus exploded, Alastair and Barnaby were deep in conversation about cables and satellites.

Alastair pointed up and down the street, explaining the bus had been somewhere along this block. Then a man standing just behind us interrupted and pointed out the exact location.

It was directly across the street from where we stood. There was no scarring on the street or the building, nothing to indicate that it was witness to a terrible tragedy. Even without the physical reminders, this man had not forgotten. The reminder was in his sad face and his simple statement.

Others have chosen to be more vocal. Yesterday Rachel North, a survivor from the Piccadilly line, was a guest on FOX and Friends. She said all she wanted to do was live a normal life again. But instead, said she sacrifices her privacy to share her experience with others and hopefully bring important issues to light. For people like Rachel, no visible reminders are needed.

Today, government officials unveiled the first physical monuments to the national tragedy. Memorial plaques were presented at each of the five locations where victims and survivors were taken. It's such an interesting contrast between the scene just a week ago and the environment today. Last week, nothing existed to visually remind anyone of the attacks.

Today, there are police officers on almost every train. Satellite trucks, reporters and photographers are lined up outside the stations affected by the attacks. On the Tube, things seem normal on the surface. The trains were humid and crowded as usual, everyone reading their paper or reading over someone else's shoulder. But as I searched the faces of those around me, I suspected their thoughts, like mine, were filled with the bombing.

At Regent's Park today, three Muslim men were handing out bracelets saying "New York, London, Madrid." It was a simple reminder that London is not the only place rocked by terrorism. I was in Kenya after the American embassy was bombed. There was no grand monument erected to commemorate the event. But years later, some of the volunteers who helped search for bodies still can't walk down the street where the embassy was located.

They stop in their tracks, and I've seen tears in their eyes. In Kenya and in London life has returned to normal. Although there are now plaques in London to commemorate the event, it is the fear on the faces of commuters and the sadness in the eyes of a bystander that show we have not forgotten.