This is history.
We were in our car travelling the route between our home in Aylmer and our family cottage near Saint-Sauveur. It was raining along the stretch of road when we spotted Terry on his route. I remember pressing my nose to the window to watch him. I remember distinctly the hop shift shuffle of his pace. My mother slowed down to a snail’s pace and told my brother and I to pay attention. She said “Remember this moment. You are in the middle of history”. Even today, if I close my eyes, I am that little girl in the car, staring out in wonder of his strength and courage, and in awe of the perserverance of that lone figure getting soaked by the rain.