I was in my bedroom, half awake, not even dressed for the day. My baby was asleep in his crib so I flipped on the TV and there it was. The buildings on fire, the news commentators playing over and over again the planes flying into the towers. I sat in shock, not fully comprehending what was happening. My eyes were glued to the screen.

Then I saw it unfold on television. I knew what was happening even before the news commentators did. The first tower was crumbling.

More shock, disbelief.

Honestly, I can’t remember all the emotions I felt. Most likely terror, fear, shock. This couldn’t be happening. Then the second tower fell. It was surreal. Like something out of Hollywood.

Though I lived hundreds of miles from New York, I was worried about my kids at school. It brought back memories of the Oklahoma City bombing, and I worried about my husband being away at work while all this was going on. But most of all I was concerned for my family in New York.

I tried to call my family in New York, but the phone lines were jammed. I’m not sure how I heard the news. I think it was through email.

My dad was missing.

I wasn’t really panicked, but his wife was. Maybe it was the peace of God, maybe it was disbelief that it was all happening, but I stayed calm and prayed. He came home safe and sound to Brooklyn, along with hundreds of refugee city workers who had to walk home from Manhattan. At least he didn’t have to go through it alone. At least he was safe.

Later he told us his story:

He was teaching a class at Aveda Cosmetology school when someone said a plane crashed into the towers. They all took a break and went outside, thinking it was a freak accident. He saw the second plane fly into the tower, and he knew things weren’t right, and wasn’t about to wait around to find out what would happen next.

He tried to get home, but no one could get out of the city by car, bus or train. He decided to walk home with hundreds, maybe thousands of others.

My family and friends were lucky that day. No one I knew or loved was lost in the attack, though plenty of my friends and family worked and lived in the city. One friend was supposed to grab breakfast at the towers after she dropped her kids off at school. The first plane hit while she was still at their school. They all saw it.

There are so many stories like the ones I shared. But there are also stories of those who didn’t survive. Let’s not forget them or their lives.

Please take a moment and pray for the survivors, for America, our country’s leaders, this world we live in and the men fighting for our freedom.

You can find more September 11th memories here.
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