Free Chicken Soup for the Soul of America by Jack Canfield

they met firemen coming up. The firemen assured everyone that it was safe down below and to remain calm and to continue going down to safety. He was still in the stairwell on the way down when someone with a radio said a second plane had hit Tower Two. That’s when he realized it was an attack and not an accident.
    When my husband reached the Plaza Level, he was not able to exit because of the flaming debris falling outside. He proceeded down the steps to the Concourse Level and walked through several inches of water, which was coming from the sprinkler system, and was finally able to exit the building. He walked to the subway station and got on a train going uptown. He was probably on the last train to ever leave from there. He did not stop to make a phone call until he was in Grand Central Station.
    When I heard his voice, I went completely weak. “Eddie, where are you?”
    He said, “In Grand Central Station.” I could not believe my ears. He was right across the street.
    I said, “Thank God!” He said he was coming to my office.
    As I hung up the phone, it rang again. It was my second daughter, Jessica, again. She told me not to go to my mother’s because she had heard the first tower collapsed, and my mother lives about ten or fifteen blocks from the World Trade Center and is in direct line with them. I did not give her a chance to finish. I said, “Daddy is okay, and he is on his way to my office.” I also told her I did not know what we were doing, but I had to evacuate the building and would call her later. I told her to tell my other daughter. I quickly called both my sisters to let them know Eddie was okay, and I was going to meet him downstairs.
    When I got downstairs, I saw him standing in front of the building. I just hugged and kissed him and could not believe how fortunate we were. I was so grateful he acted as he did. Even though it seemed like an eternity, this all took place within a little more than an hour.
    We decided to go to my cousin’s apartment about four blocks away. Since the bridges and tunnels had closed, we would not be able to get a bus home. When we arrived there, we again called my sister and my daughters to let them know where we were. My husband told my youngest daughter to e-mail our oldest daughter, Judie, who is in medical school in the Caribbean. We later learned she had heard of the attack and was frantically trying to contact us.
    My story has a happy ending. We pray all the time now for those who were not as fortunate, for those who did not make it and for their families. They are now in heaven—the only place greater than the United States of America.
    Rosemarie Kwolek

A Day in D.C.
    W e all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance.
    Harrison Ford
    â€œDon’t go, Mom,” my ten-year-old daughter pleads while she watches me pack my bag for Washington, D.C. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” I have to go, I try to explain, I have an important meeting on Tuesday, September 11.
    At the airport, I walk into the jetway to board the American Airlines plane and glance back. My nearly teenage son waits to leave the gate. I give him a reassuring look—the kind that says everything will be all right—and take a deep breath. I, too, am having second thoughts.
    As my flight approaches Reagan National Airport, I am in awe by the sight of our majestic national monuments piercing the darkness of the warm night in a bath of glorious light. This is my first trip to our nation’s capital—my first business trip for an editorial position that I have had merely five months.
    Early Tuesday morning, September 11, I find myself in the House office buildings participating in my employer’s lobbying effort. As we ride the elevator, a legislative aide says that a plane has hit the World Trade Center and there is a “big hole in the side of the building.” Although I question for