I remember Joe called me, almost in hysterics, screaming, "A plane just hit the Trade Center!! There's people running!! Paper everywhere!!" He was at work downtown in the Flatiron Building and he could still see sheets of paper fluttering down even that far up.
He was clearly upset but I still thought it was a joke. He stayed on phone and I turned on the TV. I kept thinking it was just a Cesna and nothing more. I saw what happenend on the news and was stunned. Then the second plane hit and I heard Joe screaming, I heard the explosion in the background over the phone and I told him to get inside, to run, to get away. I did my best to stay calm, but he was so terrified by what he was seeing. The man that I swore my life to love forever was crying on the phone, running, out of breath.
He did go back inside and I saw on television that the tower fell and I started screaming, "Oh my GOD!" and swearing and told him what happend. He said they announced over the alarms that the building was shut down, that everyone was to go uptown and head home. He told me he loved me, that he'd be home soon.
I didn't know if the phone disconnected or if he hung up so I tried to call him back. Busy. Busy. Busy. Busy... all day long. Busy lines, recordings to everyone I called that "Due to high volume, this call could not be connected." Nothing.
I took my cel with me and ran down the street to the ATM and took out the max I was allowed. Went to the store to buy bottles of water and got as much as I could carry. Picked up some canned goods and carried everything back to the apartment. As I was walking, I saw people walking down Queens Blvd, all the way from Manhattan, with looks of shock. You could hear the breeze it was so quiet. No cars. Just people walking walking walking. I gave a few bottles of water and kept on my way home, terrified out of my mind that Joe was ok.
While walking, two screaming military jets flew low overhead, causing a huge BLAST of noise to break the silence. I and everyone around me fell to the ground, not knowing what the hell was going on.
I could see smoke over lower Manhattan blowing slowly into midtown from the footbridge into my neighborhood. Neighbors were standing on the bridge, most were dialing their cels, dialing, dialing, dialing, dialing and getting no where.
I walked into the apartment and turned on the news, and watched with the rest of the world. I was afraid for my friends. I was miserable not knowing what happened to Joe.
The phone rang and it was our friend Tom, who worked next to the towers. He sounded strained as if he'd been crying, told me he was trying every number in his phone book until he reached someone, anyone. He told me he couldn't get through to his parents and he just wanted his mom to know he was alive, he was ok. He told me he saw bodies falling in front of him. He cried the entire time on the phone.
I reached his Mom and she screamed to everyone else in her house that "Tommy was ok!"
I got through to our friend John. He couldn't leave his office because they had shut down the building but because of the debris from the towers that was piled in the street, they effectively locked everyone inside. He told me he'd been knocked off his chair in his office when the first tower fell and smacked his head, but that was the extent of it. All the windows had blown in on the entire office floor so he considered himself lucky. He asked me to help call his Mom in Connecticut to let her know he was ok. I tried but could never reach her. Phones were busy. Busy. Busy. Busy. Eventually John made it home later that day, covered in dust, coughing, but safe. He was a lawyer then. He's an episcopal priest now.
It was now going on late afternoon and I still hadn't heard from Joe. I had no idea whether he was dead or alive or hurt or scared. My heart was breaking. I just wanted him home.
The subways were shut down. The tunnels and bridges were closed to all traffic. Even if he could walk, he'd have been stopped.
Joe made it home later that night. They had turned on the subways that night with minimal service, bringing people home. The minute we saw each other, we hugged and didn't stop for what seemed like hours. I could feel him shaking. He probably felt me as well.
Over the weeks that followed, I remember that smell that came wafting into our neighborhood. To this day, when I smell smoke, I think of 9/11. I remember other smells too, from when I was down in ground zero at the respite centers. I remember how quiet the respite center areas were, day and night. I remember how the men and women were covered in black soot when they came in for a meal. I remember the one firefighter who just wanted a cup of coffee and a cookie. I remember an entire town in Texas that had sent us a massive box of cookies, each one individually wrapped and not a one had broken. I remember the letters that people from all over the world sent, thanking the men and women in ground zero. I hung them along the walls all over, just so everyone can see them and read them. I can tell you that whenever someone came in for a bottle of water, a sandwich or a meal, they would always walk along the walls and read those letters.
We all remember a lot from that day and the days that followed.
I pray that time eases the pain of your memories.
