I woke up on Sept. 11th to the sound of my alarm clock, as usual, but on what was usually a rock station, the deejays were saying a couple of planes had hit the WTC. That shocked me awake and I ran downstairs to turn on CNN and see what was going on. I was thinking of small planes until I saw the true situation on TV.

My roommate had heard my clock, and then me running, and came to see why I’d gotten up so fast. We stood there in total shock and watched the story unfold. The first tower fell while we were watching.

The second fell while I was driving to work. Needless to say, no one was working that day, and some of us went home at noon.

I was in a daze the rest of the day, but I also remember every minute of it. My dad was in Salt Lake City, where I live, for business, so we got together for dinner. President Bush came on TV while we were eating and I remember how badly I wanted to hear some reassurance from him. I’m sure we all did.

My dad and I stepped into a free Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert on Temple Square that had been scheduled that night for conventioneers, but in light of the events of the day, they made some changes to the program to make it more patriotic and thoughtful. They sang “Bring Him Home” from Les Miserables and it was hard to keep from crying then. Still, I feel it was a small blessing to have the chance to mourn that way, through music and with many other people. We all felt very close to God and one another that night, and I think we healed a little.