I started to explain, but I stopped. I could see that I had lost her. She was not listening anymore. Her mouth and eyes wide open and her movement was slow. I caught this picture through the glass. I watched her closely as she consumed the room. Maybe it was to early for her, but to late for me to regret. She was not born when it happened. She had heard about it in school, but right now she was in the middle of it. Ground Zero, where it happened. And it was all here. Large graphic pictures on the walls. Planes crashing. Burning. Horrified people covered in gray dust running towards the camera. Huge buildings collapsing to the ground. Clouds of smoke and debris through the streets – the same streets we had just walked.
I got silent too. In a lifetime there is a few moments that burns in your memory forever. You know exactly where you where, what you where doing and who you talked to. Even a decade later you can clearly see all your surroundings, the old TV, the open door to the garden, the furniture you got rid of a long time ago and you can recall the feeling of total disbelief. I had seen these images thousands of times, but still it got to me.
She was silent for two days. Then she started to ask. Questions so difficult to answer. But in a land far away. A conflict so distant to us. Little did we know that horrible things can also happen in peaceful little Norway.