Five years later, and still no end in sight. Not of Wars on Terror, or Terror Wars, or Osama-B-Found or any of it. I was in our apartment in eastern Oregon, when the Husband called me at home and told me to turn on the television. Moments later, I had to call my parents, in Massachusetts, to make sure they were all right. I couldn't get through. Not for hours.

Hours of being glued to the screen and holding my hand over my mouth as I watched a city I've visited and loved, Towers whose roofs I've been on, crumbling.

I can't imagine what it was like for the people of New York that day. Nor what it is still like for those who continue to suffer.

Five years later, and still, we mourn.