Everyone has a story of yesterday, and here's mine.

I had just changed out of my uniform after returning from an overnight duty at the rescue squad. Our next door neighbors called to tell us to turn on the TV. We sat on the edge of the bed watching the disaster unfold with our hands over our mouths. After the Pentagon bombing, I called the rescue squad to see whether personnel were being called back in, and was told I should come in right away. I pulled on the uniform I'd been wearing for the previous twelve hours.

We didn't know whether more attacks would come, and what the rest of the day would hold. Susan was crying and then trying not to cry. How can I ever explain what it felt like to kiss her goodbye?