On September 11, 2001 I sat on the couch with my infant
daughter, rocking her back and forth, staring at the television in horror. Like every American, I was terrified. But, on that morning, I wasn’t only afraid
for our nation. My fear was personal. I was afraid I had lost my husband.
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Diving for the phone, I dialed Cash’s cell phone, but he
didn’t answer. I dialed again and again
and again for seven minutes straight. It
was the longest seven minutes of my life.
When he finally answered I almost collapsed with relief. He was alive.
Shocked, scared and stranded; but alive.
It took Cash another five days to make it home and when I
saw him cross the threshold of our front door, it was one of the best moments
of my life.
My 9/11 story had a happy ending, but for others that wasn’t
the case; and today, especially, I pray for those whose loved ones didn’t come
home. ~
Susan, I had no idea. Bless you and Cash both!
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine how awful that must have been for you. So glad he made it home safely.
ReplyDeleteMelinda