It was a bright, clear morning on September 11th. There was a nip in the air and a chill in the breeze. The trees were morphing into their burnt red/orange phase. My fire department and I had just finished putting out a small fire in a local coffee shop in the heart of New York City. It was about 8:45 and we were on our way back to the station. The traffic was horrific, cars bumper to bumper, and I could hardly wait to get back to the station because my wife Melissa was going to find out if she was pregnant or not. My family meant everything to me, and I couldn’t wait.
The ear piercing low frequency rumble startled everyone in sight. The sky was no longer the beautiful light blue it was this morning. Now it was a greyish black, with billows of thick smoke covering the whole city. It  lit up like a firework but with smoke and flames. It was coming from the World Trade Centers only a block away . The ginormous Towers disappeared behind the debris.  Everything and everyone stopped except the flames which seemed to be getting bigger.  No one knew what to do. The blare of the fire trucks started up, so I immediately started ours. We raced out of the truck and some men grabbed the water hoses. I grabbed some other fighters and we raced over to the towers. People were trapped in there and we needed to get them out. A hard thud right next to me on the street got my attention. A body? It was a body. They started raining out of the sky like snowflakes in a blizzard, trying to save themselves but only making it worse. The sight gave me a new sense of realization.
We charged into the building and went for the stairs. I raced up those stairs like my life depended on it, which it kind of did. People stampeded down and we tried to get them in an orderly fashion and save as many as possible. Sweat was rushing down my neck and back like I was in a rain storm. I kept going up. The adrenaline kicked in and nothing was going to stop me in the world. As I kept ascending up the stairs it was getting warmer. A lot warmer. And the number of people coming down versus the number of people lying on the staircases motionless was decreasing. The building was practically coming down on top of us. This is the end isn’t it? It’s over. My wife and kids, oh how can I ever leave them? Our lives will never be the same. 10 amazing years with Melissa, and Addy she is only 2. And Jake only 7. And possibly another little one on the way! Oh no. No more “story time”  before bed. No more tickle fights. No more date nights with Melissa. No more family time. But as a firefighter I have my duties and I have to fulfill them. And I have to do anything in my power to get back safe to my family.  
The sight out of the corner of my eye that said Floor 24 on it gave me hope. 24 the number stitched permanently to the back my basketball jersey in high school. The day of August Melissa and I got married. The first numbers in our address on Crescent street. It’s going to be alright.  My gaze soon pulled away from that and fell on a crying stranded women strewn across the stairs, clearly in pain. I climbed over to her and tried to figure out what was wrong but the on going stamped, and increasing heat made it impossible. I grabbed her up on my shoulder and went to the base of the stair landing and tried to help.
“What hurts?” I asked.
No response. I asked again, and this time all I saw was a slight head nod to her arm.  I looked at it, and she was hurt and bad. The sight of the rushing, thick, crimson blood made me nauseous. 
“Okay, I need an answer. Do you think you can make it?” I asked again.
“I’m not sure…” Her speech was slurred and she had a far off look in her eyes. She seemed to be thinking about something.
“I have family at home too. I want to get back to them more than the next person here. We’re getting you out of here.” I said firmly, but tenderly too.
“How did you know?” She asked puzzledly. 
“Family is family, and I…” I started speaking but was suddenly interrupted by the sight of the ceiling breaking straight down the middle. The badly constructed ceiling caved in.
“LET’S GO!” I yelled over the falling debris from the floor upstairs. I picked up the injured woman, and dodging the descending desks, paper files, and  fans we ran down the stairs. The amount of people coming down had greatly decreased. The burning flames were practically on top of us. The pungent smell of burnt wood and metal showed us just how long we had left. We were running out of options. A flame sprouted down from the ceiling and started to spread everywhere near us. The deafening sounds of screams from people in reach of us was a reminder of how precious life actually is. I was sprinting down the stairs, and this time it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for. The woman slung across my arms and back was completely my responsibility.
The flames were chasing us down the stairs. Who would win first? All the sudden my body became searing with heat. The scourging feeling only lasted a moment. I was then transported into a world of apparition. I couldn’t  feel anything. The weight was taken off my shoulders and I couldn’t feel my feet off the ground. Images flashed through my head but I could see them like I was watching a movie at the theatre. There  was a baby swaddled up in a blue blanket. Then the same baby said his first words. He learned to walk and ride a two wheel bike. He went to his first day of kindergarten and  met friends that would last him a lifetime. He scored  his first 3-pointer in basketball.  He went on his first date. He graduated high school with a basketball scholarship to University of Kentucky. He met his wife and got married. They moved to New York city and had their two kids Addy and Jake. The now grown up baby rushed into a burning building with much confidence. The last thing he saw was his wife and children sitting on their couch. They were watching the TV. His wife, staring at her stomach, a little rounder than usual, crying.
Everything went black. Everything stopped.