My husband and I were driving in old Combi van around Western Europe on 2001.
We drove into the gorgeous Siena in Italy on that morning in September,
ready for another day of carefree sightseeing,
free to explore yet another beautiful Tuscan town.
As we walked up a narrow cobble-stoned street,
a photograph on the cover of the newspaper was accompanied by one word:
That is my memory of this day in history.
We were both blessed and cursed as we had no access to television
due to our mode of travel,
no relentless media bombardment in our spoken language.
We struggled to keep radio reception to an English speaking station in our van.
We had to actively search out information
about that day and its aftermath.
It was surreal.
I think it took us months, perhaps longer, to get a real grasp
on the extent of that tragic day.
In some ways, we were cushioned to the impact of the horror,
at least initially.
Unlike most big events of my lifetime,
I certainly remember where I was on 9/11.
My thoughts are with those who died on that day
and those who have died since;
and with most of humankind
who will be forever haunted by the events of that day.