This is just a little story in honor of all of those who died on this sad day so many years ago.
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That day was busy. A lot of men were tired, so they came in for a drink. One of them was my husband. He was absolutely amazing in every way possible, so sweet and kind. He worked in the South Tower, but his office was just across the gap between the towers, so whenever I looked across, I could see him. I loved him so much.
Breakfast had just finished at 8:45 when it happened. As soon as I heard the boom, and felt the rumble, I looked across for Michael, but he wasn't there. I searched all the windows for his face, but I never saw him. I hoped and prayed that he was alright.
"Sara! Come look!" shouted Jerry. He was the other bartender. I rushed over to where he was standing, looking down at the building. An airliner was jetting out of the South Tower. I immediately thought of Michael, and I looked up back at his office, but still he was missing. It was already 9:00 when I heard a scream from the other side of the room. I followed the sound, asking what the woman was so afraid of. Another plane was on it's way, heading straight for us. As soon as it crashed, the entire building shook. It was 9:03.
We immediately began evacuating the restaurant, ordering everyone to head downstairs. It was the safest place to be. By 9:30, everyone was out. It was horrifying that someone would do this, especially when people who have families are up here.
I checked around, making sure the staff was out too, but I heard someone crying. I pushed through flipped tables and overturned chairs, careful not to step on any glass. It sounded like a child, a little girl. For a minute I thought it was my little Anne, but then I remembered she was safe at school. At least I thought she was.
I found a small woman in the back, crying her eyes out while holding onto a handkerchief. I pulled her up, making sure that she wasn't injured.
"What's your name?" I asked. I looked at my watch. 9:52.
"Jenna," she sobbed.
"Jenna. That's a beautiful name. Mine's Sara. I'm going to get you home, Jenna. Just keep talking okay? What do you do?" She began to calm down slightly, distracted from the terror by her own life.
"I-I'm a secretary," she whispered. I smiled, pulling her with me as I led her to the stairs.
"Oh really? I bet that's nice, better than a bartender, right?" She forced a laugh, sadness and panic still upon her young face. I noticed a beautiful silver ring on her finger.
"Is he nice? Your fiance?"
"He, uh, he's flawless. His name's Tony. He proposed last year on my 20th birthday."
"That sounds so nice. I'm married myself. My husband works over in the South Tower. We've been together 7 years now. We have a daughter, a beautiful daughter." By now, we reached the stairway, and I realized that calming Jenna down was my own distraction from the horror.
"Now listen, Jenna. Once you get out, you run as fast as you can. Go home to Tony, live a life together."
"But what about-" I pushed her through the door just as she began to resist.
I ran back over to the window, looking at my watch in panic. 10:03. It's already been over an hour. I searched again through the smoke, and this time he was there. My Michael. His palms were on the window, reaching out to me. I leaned up against my own window, wishing to be with him. Then came a groan, muffled from the outside. His desk began to shake violently, and glass began falling from the sky. I looked up and saw that the top floors had begun to collapse, and his floor was soon. He saw it too.
I could see him then, sad, but happy at the same time. He shouted something, and I couldn't make it out clearly, but I knew what he was saying. It was three little words, and those words would be with me for the rest of my life.
"I love you!" he yelled. The dust covered his window, and just like that, he was gone. The space where he once stood was now empty, nothing but the skyline.
It was stupid of me to even think he survived, but a little part of me kept insisting that he was still there, at the bottom of the wreckage, alive, scraped, and covered in dust. But I never truly believed it.
I ran down the stairs, trying to get to the ground as fast as possible. I passed a clock every two floors, and each time I looked, it was different. 10:10. 10:15. 10:20. 10:24.
By 10:26, I had reached the jet. I wasn't sure what floor I was on, but I sure as hell didn't want to be on it. The smoke was so overpowering, I'd probably die of smoke inhalation before the building collapsed on me.
The smell is what made me lose it. The burning bodies. It was just like my grandma described it. At first, it smelt like rubber, then like burning beef. A man ran by, engulfed in flames. I took one last glace at the clock. 10:27.
I heard a loud groaning, then dust began to fall. I looked up at the burning ceiling, hoping and praying that God wouldn't let my daughter live without a mother. It would be a cruel thing to do.
It's funny. I wasn't scared, or hurt. I was angry. Angry that I didn't live a kind life. Angry that my baby girl would be all alone. Angry that God took my husband away, and that he was going to take my daughter from me too. Angry that I was leaving.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a black shadow, and I knew it was here for me. The silhouette came closer, and I realized it was smaller than I thought.
Sara Lynn Carter, it's time, said a voice in my head. I couldn't tell who it was, but they sounded familiar, as if I'd met them in another time. Perhaps I had. Either way, I was willing, but angry to go. The dust came down heavier as I took the shadow's hand, gripping it tightly. There was a loud boom, and then, we were gone. Where I once stood was empty, and I never stood there again.
