2001
September 11th.
Every workday began the same way. My wife dropped me at Edison Station. The NJ Transit train carried me to Newark, where I transferred to the PATH train, disembarking at the World Trade Center. A walk down Wall Street, a right turn, and I’d arrive at 55 Water Street—my office at S&P, on the 45th floor of the World Financial Center.
The view from my cubicle was breathtaking. The Hudson River glistened below, ferries crisscrossing the water, the Statue of Liberty standing tall in the distance. It was a sight that filled me with quiet joy, a daily reminder of freedom’s promise.
But on September 11, that promise would be shattered.
The Day the World Stopped
At 8:46 AM, my train was a mile away from the World Trade Center when it jerked to a halt. “Service disruption,” the conductor announced. Frustrated, I stepped onto the platform, scanning for another route—maybe a ferry. But police blocked every path.
Then I saw it.
Smoke and flames poured from the North Tower. People murmured in confusion—Was it an accident? A bomb? My mind raced—I need to get to the office.
Then, at 9:03 AM, a second plane roared low overhead. Rescue flight? I wondered.
It wasn’t.
The explosion shook the ground as the South Tower erupted in fire. A hot, black wave of terror rolled through the crowd. People screamed, running in every direction. It felt unreal—like a nightmare ripped from a disaster movie.
The world would never be the same.
The Long Walk Home
For two hours, I walked—past ash-covered faces, past voices trembling with fear. My own body, weakened by kidney failure, ached with every step. Finally, I found a cab.
Phones were dead. Six hours passed before I could reach my wife. Six hours of her not knowing if I was alive. When I finally saw her, we clung to each other, my words spilling out in a rush—I was there. I saw it. I’m here.
By then, the towers were gone.
The South Tower collapsed at 9:59 AM. The North Tower followed at 10:28 AM. People had jumped from the sky rather than burn. News reports flashed contradictory updates, but one truth was clear: thousands were gone. Only dust and steel remained.
Aftermath: A World Forever Changed
For a week, I stayed home, watching the horror replay on TV. The images seared into my mind—the smoke, the falling bodies, the endless grief. My health, already fragile, worsened in the shadow of so much death.
I had escaped. But why?
Life’s fragility had never been clearer. Death comes without warning—through illness, tragedy, or terror. No place on earth is truly safe.
Except one.
“In a moment of anger I turned My face away for a little while, but with everlasting love I will have compassion on you.” (Isaiah 54:8)
Hallelujah.