September 11th I wrote this on the one year anniversary of the attacks.

I cracked one sleep-encrusted eyeball at the alarm clock. 8:48. Why is the alarm going off early? I don’t get up ‘til nine. Nope. It’s the phone. I stumbled out of bed, eyes closed, out of the bedroom, felt my way through the living room and into the kitchen. I picked up the phone, fully prepared to give some telemarketer a piece of my sleep addled mind. It’s weird how just twelve minutes can make such a difference.

“Hello”, I barked/croaked.

“BHBg ssprtnp dvzgz0er IWef World Trade Center!” It was Dana. There was something in my wife’s voice that I had not heard before. I came awake immediately.

“What?” I said.

“A plane just flew into the World Trade Center!” she repeated. “It flew right past our window!”

“No,” I said matter of factly, stupidly, already looking frantically for the TV remote.

“It flew right down Seventh Avenue and right into one of the Towers! Our windows were rattling! I thought we were being bombed! It was like a movie!”

“Slow down, darlin’. Where are you?” I was flipping between the major networks to no avail. “There’s nothing on TV, yet.”

“I’m still at work. Some people are leaving. Buzz is deciding what we should do. I think I’m gonna leave.” Dana worked about half a mile north of the Towers. That was only a few blocks from home.

“Come home, now” I said. Just then, I flipped right past CBS, stopped and flipped right back to a sight I will never forget.

“Is it on TV, yet?” Dana asked, as if that would make it real. “Do you see it?”

“How did it happen? What happened? How are they gonna get up there?” I asked. And why not? Questions were easy.

“It was an airliner! It flew right by our window and just went straight into the building! I couldn’t believe it!” my wife repeated. “I have to go”.

“Come home, right now” I commanded, with my eyes glued to the TV.

“I love you.”

“I love you, baby! Get home, now!”

“I will. Bye.”

That was the beginning of my day. The next part of my life, I spent pacing my living room, flipping channels, looking for the most informative coverage. The thought of terrorism had already gone through my mind (I once woke to a similar phone call, a similar sight, back in ‘93). I mean really... a jetliner flying that low on a clear day? People on the news were saying it was a small plane, it was a big plane, no, it was a single engine prop job, I saw it, it was a jet, you idiot, it was a bomb, no, it was a plane carrying a bomb.

When the second plane hit, I was beyond incredulous. “Where is the air cover!?!” I shouted to my apartment. The phone rang again. It was Dana. She was still at work. Some coworkers had family in the Towers. She was trying to help keep people calm. I told her to “get home, right now”. I called my job and told them I wasn’t coming in. They hadn’t even heard about the first plane, let alone the second.

I waited for what seemed like forever for my wife to get home that day. The phones were down. Internet service was sporadic, at best. I was able to get online for a minute and fire off a quick email to let people know we were okay. Funny, I had just enough time to hit the “choose all” button on my email address book and because of that, rekindled a relationship with an old buddy I’d lost touch with. His email address was buried in there somewhere.

When Dana got home, we went out and just walked around.

We went to the grocery store and bought water and candles and batteries. The store was crowded but strangely orderly. The radio was on over the speakers. I remember hearing the newsman say that the Sixth (?) Fleet was moving towards New York. I immediately felt comforted. We’re gonna get those f-ers.

The rest of the day was pretty much a blur. I remember being on a friend’s roof and watching the Towers come down. I remember hearing about more planes possibly headed for D.C. I remember seeing F-15s and F-16s flying over and everyone asking, “What’s that, Mike? What’s that one?” I remember spouting off top speeds and weapons packages, various specs, anything to keep our minds off the unknown. I remember feeling incredibly angry. Outraged. Scared. Emboldened. I considered re-enlisting. I remember not being able to give blood at St. Vincent’s. Too many people. I remember the doctors waiting patiently at St. Vincent’s. No people.

We saw hundreds of people coming up Hudson Street, covered in white powder. I saw a man smash his cell phone to the ground. We saw people weeping and people comforting.

The thing I remember the most is walking with Dana that evening. I told her how anxious I was to have her home that morning. Then one of us (I can’t remember which) stopped and said, “How many people are still waiting for their husband or wife, or son, or girlfriend to come home right now?” That was the closest I got to crying that day. The panic, outrage and heartache almost tore me apart at that moment. I choked them down. Tears would come some other day. We stood on Seventh and Bleecker and hugged each other tightly, thankful that we still could.