Dear America, Do nations read letters from nobodies? Probably not. But there’s something that today, I wanted you to know. I am proud to call myself a Canadian. I wouldn’t trade my country for anything. I am not American. But I hurt with you anyways. For over a decade. 12 years ago, I was a newlywed. Living my life in Northern Alberta until one day after the long bus ride to the depot and walk home after a 9 hour shift at the shelter downtown, I collapsed asleep on my bed just after 8a.m. without changing. And that’s how September 11th, 2001 found me, after a phone call woke me up less than an hour later, watching the horror of the 2nd tower get hit while still in my nursing scrubs, sitting in my living room on a pile of laundry. And even though I am not American, not only could I not understand the unspeakableness of what the news was showing me, I acutely aware that this day was going to somehow change my life, here, completely. I couldn’t reach DH, I didn’t even try. He was in the bush training with a military competition team he was a part of. I wondered if he knew, if he was watching. Would he come home at all? Would reaction be immediate? Was there anything we could do? Had this been a third world country that was the victim, I have no doubt our Canadian Forces would have mobilized a disaster assistance team to be there as we have done for dozens of countries in need before and since then. But instead this was arguably the most powerful country in the world we were watching face this attack and the…