8 years ago today PB was scheduled to go to work later that afternoon. Only a few months earlier, TWA had finally been bought by American Airlines (AA). While we were still snoozing in bed, we had received an odd phone call from his mother from Poland. She was talking about something she had seen on TV about a plane crashing into a skyscraper in New York City. We attributed it to some crazy show she had been watching and hung up and tried to go back to sleep but we were already awake. We lounged in bed, cuddling, talking and enjoying each other's company. Then we got another phone call. I can't recall who it was this time as we got several phone calls that morning asking where PB was, but that was when we were first alerted to what was really going on in New York City that morning.

PB has lived in New York since he immigrated from Poland when he was 17. He got his pilot license in Long Island and was based out of New York when he worked for TWA and for AA. He flew by the Manhattan skyline on a regular basis.

After that phone call, we quickly got dressed and went downstairs and turned on the TV only to see CNN's news footage of the crash in the first tower. Within minutes of us watching, we saw the second plane hit the second tower. My heart stopped and I felt weak and needed to sit down. We watched in disbelief and realized that the first tower was not an accident. We continued to get phone calls from friends and family all asking whether PB was at work or if he was with me. I felt very fortunate that he was home and safe and that I wasn't going crazy trying to locate him and at the same time absolutely ill that it could have been him.

For days, every time I turned on the TV, tears came pouring down my face and I had a constant lump in my throat. There was a part of me, the ostrich with the head in the sand, that wished I had been in some remote village in Africa or an island in Polynesia that didn't have access to any media, so that I wouldn't have to face such a devastating reality.

It's been 8 years since that traumatic day and I still get a queasy stomach, the lump in my throat and tears welling up when I see any footage or images, read stories about the families that were left behind or anything to do with that day. Ironically, PB now works for the cargo company that was the only civilian aircraft flying after everything else was grounded on 9/11. With the war on terror, PB is now regularly flying in the Middle East, flying in supplies for all the troops. It's a constant reminder of that day and how different the world is now.

Many people ask me what it's like to be married to a pilot and if I fear for his life when he goes to work. It's not like he's a police officer or a fireman as flying is very safe. I do think about it and dread the possibility that I could get a call one day that his plane has gone down, but it's not to the point of crippling me. It doesn't help that he is now flying predominantly in the Middle East but I am a positive person and I believe in always moving forward. Being a pilot's wife is my reality and whether I would rather stick my head in the sand or not, I now have even more responsibility now that I'm also a mother to a pilot's son.