Where I Was on September 11, 2001

During my college years, I worked as a receptionist at Morgan Stanley in New Jersey. My job mainly consisted of answering + transferring calls. A large television sat across from my desk + the news played on it all day long.

On September 11, 2001, around 8:14 a.m., only about fourteen minutes after I had sat down at my desk, the world changed forever.

I remember looking up at the TV as footage showed a plane crashing into one of the buildings. At first, like so many people, I wondered if it was some kind of tragic accident. Had something gone wrong with the plane? Was it a mechanical failure that caused it to hit the building?

My coworkers began gathering around the lobby where the television sat in front of my desk. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

My brother Anthony was working in New York City at the time, so I immediately texted him. By some miracle, he wasn’t in the city that morning, he had stayed home sick. I ran to the bathroom + cried for several minutes, overwhelmed with relief, before returning to my desk.

Because Morgan Stanley had offices in one of the buildings at the World Trade Center, the phones started ringing nonstop.

Call after call came through. I can still hear the voices, husbands + wives, mothers + fathers, sons + daughters, pleading with me to connect them to their loved ones in the building.

When I answered the first call, I think I went into shock. I remember speaking almost robotically, saying things like, 

“Yes, of course, let me see what I can do to connect you. Don’t worry, your husband, wife, mother, father, son, or daughter is probably trying to get out of the building and reach safety. It’s going to be okay.”

I tried to connect the calls.

I couldn’t.

The phones were down everywhere. The landlines inside the World Trade Center. Cell phones across the city. Everything was a busy signal. No one could reach anyone.

To this day, I carry a lot of PTSD from that horrific morning. I can still hear the voices of people desperately trying to reach their families during a terrorist attack. Sometimes it makes me think about how this same kind of heartbreak is happening in other parts of the world even today.

With each call that came in, my whole body shook. Eventually I broke down in tears after holding in so much emotion while the reality of what was happening set in. Everything began to blur. Sounds became muffled. I remember my boss saying that the office would be closing early, but that I should just go home.

The sadness I felt that day + still feel is hard to explain. It’s a different kind of sadness. One that’s difficult to put into words. It’s the feeling of being close enough to hear people asking for help, but not close enough to actually help them.

I know it was out of my hands. The phones simply didn’t work. But in that moment, it felt like I was holding the hearts of these families in my hands. Like I was standing beside them, trying to reach someone they loved during a nightmare none of us could wake up from.

Years later, I moved to Malibu. Every year, Pepperdine University places thousands of American flags across its front lawn to honor + remember those who were murdered that day. The flags stretch on for what feels like forever.

I can still picture it clearly.

Families sit quietly on the grass, paying their respects + remembering the people they lost. I remember driving along the Pacific Coast Highway on my way to work, trying to keep my eyes on the road. Some years I had to pull my car over because I couldn’t stop crying before continuing on with my day as normally as possible.

I will forever hold the beautiful souls who became angels that day in my heart.

To the families + friends who lost someone, please know that I hold you in my heart as well.

Hug your loved ones.

Say what needs to be said.

Make time for one another.

Don’t hold grudges.

And always remember that every single day is a gift.