The Day My Husband Almost Died, September 11th, 2001

Everyone remembers what they were doing on September 11, 2001. I was working at a preschool for autistic children and was awaiting the arrival of the school bus when, unbeknown to me, the first plane hit tower 1. When the bus pulled up and the driver informed me of the news, I ran inside frantically searching for the telephone. My husband worked on the 81st floor.

After trying to get through for about 10 minutes, I feared the worst. I fell to my knees and handed the phone to a friend, asking her to dial for me because I was too hysterical. My brother worked there also, and so did so many other people I knew. At the moment I felt the most helpless, the phone call went through to his cell phone.

My husband was okay, but was still on the 45th floor. His entire office was traveling down the stairwell and he stopped to take my call. He didn't know exactly what had happened and at the time, neither did I. All that mattered was that he was okay and was getting out.

When I got to my mom's house 15 minutes later, I saw the television. My mind like the minds of everyone across America, could not fathom that what was happening was actually real. We watched the replay over and over again until they broke in with the latest news - the north tower was about to collapse.

After it collapsed, I waited for the phone to ring. I had spoken to my husband earlier and he was still in the building - had he made it out in time? Something inside me knew he did, or maybe I was just denying what the possibilities could be. Almost 40 minutes later he called from a pay phone in Brooklyn. He was okay and going to stay there until the bridges opened up for us to go get him.