I didn’t have a structure or outline or any idea where the story would take me. The character, Pretty One, showed up one day a few weeks after September 11^th with something to say. I welcomed her into my psyche and followed her on a journey into the unknown. So, the most difficult part of writing this story was actually the most liberating. It was the act of writing without the slightest idea of how this story would end. But having said that, I knew what message I wanted to convey; that life exists beyond all this. I just wasn’t sure what road (no pun intended) it would take.

Pretty One is like many of us; a person searching for herself. But unlike us, she has no idea who she is. No name, no belongings, no memory. On top of that, she’s in a place that offers no clues: no icons, no landmarks and no signposts. The story poses a question – without photographs, recorded history or memories what proof do we have that this very moment existed at all?

With no idea where to go, or what to look for, she is forced to turn within, to trust the essence of her being – her inner wisdom. Pretty One is a reminder that we all have an inner compass. It’s that little voice that so often goes ignored, called intuition. It’s what ultimately gets her through her situation.

Hero, on the other hand, questions everything and has trouble putting intuition over reason. For him, seeing is believing. His character is haunted by something that Pretty One cannot see: a purple genie who speaks in riddles, who isn’t really there. One of the most powerful messages she gives him is one he is intended to share: An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. A series of unexplained experiences forces him to look beyond what he can see, outside the realm of what he knows and what makes sense. One of the things Pretty One tries to teach him is that just because something doesn’t have a name or hasn’t been discovered yet, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

For example, only fifty years ago, no one could fathom the Internet. And now, it’s part of daily life. It always existed, but we had to discover it. The same could be true for the afterlife. Perhaps the means of communication exists, but is just waiting to be discovered.

When Pretty One finally unlocks the secret of who she really is, she embarks on a new challenge. Perhaps she could be the one who is ultimately the link between the two realms of existence.

It was a cold September day. Hundreds of people gathered on a hilltop, surrounded by the walls of New Jersey’s Lambert Castle, which overlooks downtown New York. Many of those who attended were the families of both September 11^th and the Iraq war victims. They came seeking hope and comfort; looking for a place to connect with others who were searching for a deeper meaning of why tragedy had befallen someone they loved.

The commemorative twin lights beamed into the clear night sky behind us, a ghostly reminder of where the towers had once stood. Conveniently, there happened to be one small cloud that lingered over downtown Manhattan. It was a springboard for me to tell my story. The excerpt I read was about how all those we thought we lost really live on. It was a section of the story that illustrated how all things were possible, even life after death.

The reading was well received. I had some family members tell me that that is what they deeply believed about a departed loved one. One of the people there was Lila Lipscomb, a mother who had lost her son in the war, and was interviewed in the film, Fahrenheit 911. She had told me how much she identified with the story, and was certain her son was there, in this alternative realm, living and breathing and knowing.

Tony and I were meant to be from the start, only I didn’t know it. We met on a blind date exactly one year to the day of my very Italian Grandmother’s death. Being her eldest grandchild, she insisted she was not going to close her eyes until I was married. She passed on without seeing a ring on my finger.

Little did I know she would be working from beyond the grave to find me my husband. When Tony and I first met in March of 2001, we hit it off, but at the time I wasn’t ready for him and would prefer to be friends. So, we became friends.

When September 11^th struck, Tony was working downtown, right next door to the World Trade Center. He usually entered Tower One during his morning ritual and used the bridge that connected the towers with his building. Luckily, that morning he was late to work, and found himself running for his life in the wake of tumbling concrete and debris. Sadly, eleven people from his company died that day.

It was then when I knew we were meant to be. We found out that we shared extraordinary similarities: the same birthday, families from the same small Italian town, the same lucky number, the same favorite color, both the eldest, we share a love of comedy and entertainment and so much more. From that day on, our friendship blossomed into love. We got engaged six months later, and married on the first anniversary of September 11^th, in New York City. For me, true love emerged from the ashes of a tragic event. I found my life partner, my best friend and my soul mate. Two and a half years later, our love grows even deeper.