Where Were You?

Ten years ago today I was flying out of the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris.

I had just spent the summer in the Middle East and then backpacked Europe with a few friends. At the airport we learned Princess Diana had died the night prior, just a few miles from our hotel. One of my friends even claimed she had heard the chorus of sirens.

Ten years later and the world is still mesmerized by this story. A part of me is perplexed with the amount of attention her life and death have garnered. The critic in me regards her as an unstable bulimic adulteress. But the softer side loved her kindness, the way she could connect with the people and how she was often the victim in a loveless marriage.

I guess all the attention should come as no surprise. I still remember lying on my mom’s fluffy bed back in 1981 and watching the royal wedding. In my 9-year-old head, she was a veritable princess with her puffed sleeves and [not-so] handsome prince. I envied everything about her and fantasized of my own extravagant wedding someday.

Twenty-six years later and I am here with a husband, two kids and a mortgage. It certainly isn’t the fairy tale I once envisioned but it also isn’t the nightmare Diana often lived. Funny how different reality is. But on the flipside, I never could have imagined the pure joy of being ensconced in the love of a great man and cherished children.

Despite all of life’s challenges, I think I’ll stick with our version of happily ever after, thank you….

And so my question:

Where were you?

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