September 11, 2001... I was woken from a sound sleep by my friend in Virginia. She asked me if my elder still worked in NYC, and told me to turn on the television. Bleary-eyed, I did... to the horrific image of the first plane embedded in the first tower. "A tragic accident," I thought, thoroughly sickened by the loss of life that must have occurred.
Then as time went by and the second plane hit the second tower, I got a call from said elder son, who was working only 5 blocks away from the WTC... which I had no idea. Lower Manhattan, I knew, but that was all.
He told me he was leaving. He had to walk home to the Bronx, and promised he would call me along the way if he could. Of course, he couldn't, so I worried for the entire six hours or more that it took until he opened the door. I'd never been more happy to see anyone in my entire life.
Of course, by the time the plane hit the Pentagon, I was sure we'd all die. Any moment now someone would push a button and the world would end. I can't say that the feelings have entirely gone, even five years from that day.
Without a doubt, the world changed on that day. I, for one, will never, ever forget.