On Sunday, our nation will commemorate the tragic terrorist attacks on our nation. In some ways, the now infamous "9/11" seems like yesterday. I flew into New York that morning and called my husband Mark to tell him that the "small commuter plane" that had hit the World Trade Center was not MY plane. I assured him that I was fine and on my way into the city. Just before entering the Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan, my taxi pulled onto the breakdown lane to let pass the emergency vehicles already headed to the site. I could see into the hole the first plane made, now engulfed in billowing flames. And while sitting there, with my naked eye, I watched the second plane hit and explode.This article was originally published in The Huffington Post.