I was there. A 9/11 story from ground zero.

My first week reporting to the New York Stock Exchange was the week of 9/11. I had been in the World Trade Center (WTC) the morning of 9/11. WTC was my PATH train stop. A bright-eyed new analyst fresh out of summer training, I exited the Path station from several levels below ground level, entered the WTC, took the air bridge walkway to Merrill Lynch’s HQ (World Financial Center) to connect with traders on the desk for the 8am meeting.

Next, schlepping back through the expansive WTC to street level to take the brisk 10 minute walk to the NYSE. But, I never re-entered the building. As I walked toward the bridge, one lone elderly woman said “baby don’t go that way.” No reason or explanation. The normally bustling corridor was virtually empty. I was 15 minutes behind schedule. Had I been on time, I don't know what my story today would be.

I turned on my heels, took an escalator down, and quickly exited onto the Westside. I continued to high tail it walking South toward the NYSE. Just a few short blocks away, crowds were forming, windows were blown out of high-rises. WTC 1 had been hit minutes before.

Not long after, I heard the roar of jet engines and saw the white belly of a plane fly over my head and explode into the Southern tower - just 21 min after the first plane struck.

I remember my shock and horror. The crowd was moving in a panic. No one knew what had really happened. To this day even my memories are fuzzy. I remember sitting down on a dusty street corner in an attempt to get my bearings. But I knew I had to keep moving.

Even as the terror of the morning lingered, there were countless acts of kindness both documented and undocumented on 9/11.

My story includes a selfless act by Darlene R. In the midst of chaos, the air heavy with smoke and fiberglass - we both ended up in Battery park as strangers.

We met by chance as a prayer circle formed after she found her friend who had made it down 60+ flights of stairs of the World Trade Center. She heard me as my phone rang for the first time that day. I blurted out two phone numbers and “call my mom.” Then the call dropped.

The reality was - I had no clear way back home without traveling past ground zero. I wasn't doing that. Darlene looked at me and said “I’m a mother - I can’t leave you.” So she invited me to her home. For the next few days, she gave me food, shelter, and clothes. Her family showered 22-year old me with comfort and love.

Eventually, we lost contact. Over the years that weighed on me, especially as we approached the 20th anniversary. But this Wednesday night my phone rang with a New York number. After countless searches, Darlene and I had found each other again.

The loss, heartache and memories of 9/11 are sometimes difficult to remember. Yet these stories show us who we are as Americans and as humans.