I honestly tried all day yesterday to come up with something poignant or interesting to write about. I read a million articles commemorating the date and really so much has been said... and said again and again. Words don't do it justice.

Five years ago on September 11th, I was at work. I was just coming up on one year after having lost my first daughter and was sitting at my desk thinking about that and how I was going to get through the next month. My colleague in the office next door told me she'd heard a radio report about a plane hitting one of the world trade center buildings. I muttered something about how that building seems to be a big magnet for accidents and problems and we both went to turn on the television in the conference room just in time to see live coverage of the second plane hitting the building in New York. It was clear this was no accident.

Then the "journalists" started to "report the news"... or more accurately, Make Up Stuff and Say It On The Air. We heard that a bomb had exploded in the state department, the national mall was on fire, the beltway had been shut down, toxic agents were released in the treasury building... oh and the pentagon was hit. I guess even blind squirrels find nuts sometimes. I'm still angry at the media - particulary the radio stations located in downtown Washington - for all of the extra fear they created... in their rush to scoop the other guy, they weren't even concerned enough to substantiate a fact by, um... looking out their windows.

The Dormouse hadn't come along yet. Our boss hemmed and hawed for a bit - our office is less than a mile from the District border and we were all in shock - and when we realized that the government offices that are in our building and immediate area were all sending their people home, she decided that it was up to us - if we wanted to go home too we should. No one stayed. I did not go home however. The only thing I could think of was that KingofHearts was at work in Takoma Park, another city bordering the District, and I needed to get to where he was. So I drove there. I sat in the corner of his office as we listened to more crazy reports on the radio that later turned out to be false. I called my mother, father and brother (who worked for a news station in Arizona and was probably hearing a lot more crazy news reports than even I was) and said "I'm fine; I'm on my way home." to sighs of relief over the phone. Once we finally did get home, we started to get a real sense of what had happened. Not that the reality was easier to take in, but at least it was true.

By the next day, September 12th, we started to hear some actual true specifics about things that had happened the day before. Here's what I remember most. In the moments that led up to the plane crashes, there were a number of phone calls made from on board those planes that were reported on or played back later. People in the Towers used their last few moments alive on Earth to pick up the phone and dial a number. Almost without exception, every phone call placed went to the same number: Home.

No one called his stockbroker to get that last transaction in, his boss to explain why he wouldn't be at that meeting, his agent to make sure that deal went through. For the most part, there were just expressions of love, affection and regret at possibly not seeing friends and family again.

So on September 12th, this is what I will remember and try to express to my friends and family. Love.