I wanted to write about what an amazing weekend I had, but then I woke up and remembered. And it's amazing how you can access a feeling you had five years ago so clearly as though time never passed.

Exactly five years ago this morning I woke up hungover from an amazing I-Love-NY-night. I'd gone to the Michael Jackson tribute concert at Madison Square Garden followed by a midnight dinner at Pastis. We walked out of that restaurant arm-in-arm around 1:30, breathing in the perfect temperature and the always awe-inspiring sight of the World Trade Center standing directly in front of us about two miles away. We all remarked how beautiful the night was and how much we loved New York. (We really did.) It was a magic night.

So I was hungover that next morning but it was a stunning day: The perfect temperature, bright sun, and calm. I was drinking my coffee trying to motivate when Bruce called and told me to turn on the TV. He was walking to the subway in Tribeca and had just seen the first plane crash into the building. It was literally seconds after the crash and there was nothing on any of the morning shows.

I walked onto my fire escape over Hudson Street. The WTC was at the bottom of the street and there was a hole in one side of it with smoke. We thought it was an accident. He got on the subway to go to work. I stood out there watching the fire and called another friend. As we were talking I saw the second plane and a ball of fire. I stood on that fire escape and saw the buildings collapse but from where I was standing (two miles away?) it was eerily totally silent.