A Moment in Time

Claudia and I have opted for a ferry ride on the Bosphorus. The boat is crowded; a veritable stew of people from all over the world. I settle down on an inside bench, out of the wind and next to a man a few years younger than myself. Somehow in our greeting conversation I learn that he is Iraqi.
"Do you like Americans," I ask?
"No," he replies.
My casual traveler-meeting-traveler facade collapses and tears well up in my eyes. "I'm so sorry," I say. "I never wanted this war. I cried for Iraqis. I cry now.".
No more words were spoken between us, but our worlds had been bridged and our hearts had touched. We spoke silently of the suffering of being human and our inability to ease the suffering of others. And yet we did, in that moment, do exactly that. I was able to give voice to my grief and he was able to understand and forgive. Was this moment the reason I left Armenia early and traveled to Turkey? Just to meet this one Iraqi, to apologize to him, and to receive his understanding back? It feels that way. It's one of the most powerful memories of my trip.
A few minutes later we have regained our composure and another passenger takes our photo. I notice that our heads are tipping towards each other and we are both smiling.

 

"I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do."  Helen Keller