September 11, 2001

On the morning of September 11, 2001 I was saying goodbye to my mother who was in the later stages of Alzheimers in a nursing home in Jonesboro Arkansas. Harold and I were girding for the long ride back to Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario where our 17 year old son was waiting at home for us. Then the planes hit the towers. Before I'd had time to recognize the enormity of what had just happened Harold said he had to step out. He returned a few moments later with gas and as much money as the bank machines would give him. We drove across the US in silence listening to NPR all the way. We did not take photos or record our experience but every part of that journey is branded on my memory.