“I can’t believe it’s been five years already.” she says (one of many times this weekend).

“I know.” I reply, suddenly solemn.  “It would be though… I was on the phones at the time.”

I’d been working at the telecentre as a service delivery agent.

“I remember when Karla came in and told me a plane had crashed into the first tower.” I recount, and though she’s heard the story quite a few times in the last five years, she listens.  And despite the fact that she knows each word I will say, she hears what I am saying.  Her mind is not wandering, recollecting her own memories.  She is there with me completely.