When I was able to pull myself together, I showered and dressed and headed to work, not knowing what it was I was going to do when I got there. After all, who was going to care about my client when the world was, quite literally, crashing down around us?

On my way, my cell phone rang and it was a good friend calling to see if I'd heard the news and to make sure I was ok. One thing I remember very clearly about that day was that we none of us knew the extent of the terrorists' plans. They could be planning to attack everywhere and anywhere and, suddenly, none of us were safe.

I was, of course, ok. After hanging up with D, I called my mom and talked with her briefly. I arrived at my office shortly thereafter to find conference rooms set up on each floor with TVs tuned to CNN or any one of the other channels broadcasting ongoing footage of the attacks. There were a few more videos trickling into the newsrooms by this point so a lot of us sat for a long time, watching the footage. A number of people had been crying, their eyes red with tears. I spent most of my time that day in one of those little rooms, watching the news, or at my desk surfing news sites to find out more information.

As the day wore on, we heard about the grounding and/or rerouting of planes throughout the nation, the attack on the Pentagon and the heroes on Flight 93, who doubtless saved countless lives by bringing down their plane in a rural area before the terrorists could do any more damage.

I will never, ever forget the images of people diving out of the towers to their deaths, that haunting video of the plane turning and heading straight for the tower, nor the family members who walked around with photos, hoping to find their husbands, parents, children, brothers, sisters, uncles. It was truly a day of horror, even for those of us 3,000 miles away on the west coast.