A crisp clear morning with the bluest skies.
The look on the school secretary's face when she told me the Englishman had called and to tell me that a small plane had hit one of the World Trade Towers. And that she should alert the Principal and get together a list of the parents who worked at the Trade Center.
Having to pretend nothing was happening in front of 27 Third Grade students.
Desperately wanting to be with the Englishman, as he sat and watched friends and former colleagues perish.
Wanting to run and scoop up our daughters - two away at college and the youngest at her high school.
The kindness and support of the women I worked with, especially Barbara T.
The numbness we all felt for days and weeks after.
What do you remember?
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