I was at work, and my boss had a small TV on in his office, and called us all in when the first reports came in. We were still watching when the second plane hit, on live TV. We were stunned, and wondered what it all meant. After a while, we returned to our desks, and then heard heart-wrenching screams from downstairs. The partner (life, not business) of the floral designer who worked downstairs was on one of the planes that hit the World Trade towers.

The air overhead went silent - remember, I am one town west of Boston, where two of the planes originated. All air traffic was stopped, when it is normally a busy airport. I called Lady's Human, as he was home with his daughter, she had been born less than a month before, and he was still in the Army Reserves. I told him to turn on his TV, and call in to base. A few hours later, a fighter jet, patrolling, overflew our area, which continued for a while.

After work, I urged our pastor to open the church for prayers, but I went instead to the calling hours for a beloved church member, Donna Park, who had lost her battle with breast cancer.

It was a strange, surreal sort of day.