Time Travels with Truffle: Dateline September 11th, 2001 – New York, NY

 

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Time Travels with Truffle: Dateline September 11th, 2001 – New York, NY

The clock on the wall read 8:30 a.m. in Sharon Henderson’s apartment at 245 East 44th Street, Midtown Manhattan. The morning sun poured through the windows, catching the golden fur of her Pomeranian, Truffle, who was darting around the living room with Sharon’s house keys clamped in her mouth.  

Today was supposed to be Sharon’s first day as a financial analyst for Cantor Fitzgerald, headquartered on the 104th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. She had planned to leave by 8:15 a.m. to arrive early and make a good impression. Instead, she was chasing Truffle around the coffee table for who knows how long, pleading, “Truffle, please! Mommy’s got to go!”

Truffle barked playfully, darting under the couch and back toward the television stand.   The zoomies were in full force this morning, there was no hope of catching her.  Sharon sighed, exasperated, as the minutes slipped away. She was already late — but Truffle seemed determined to keep the game going.

At 8:46 a.m., just as Sharon saw an opportunity and lunged for the keys in Truffle’s mouth, the television blared that telltale music of something happening.  Something big. The CNN logo appeared, followed by a red banner: BREAKING NEWS.  

“We have unconfirmed reports that a plane has struck the World Trade Center in New York City.”

Sharon froze. Her breath caught as she saw the video now showing on the TV — it was One World Trade Center — her new workplace.  

Truffle dropped the keys.

Sharon turned up the volume, eyes fixed on the screen. Smoke billowed from the North Tower. The anchor’s voice trembled as new footage appeared — the gaping hole was just below Cantor Fitzgerald’s offices.

At 9:03 a.m., the second plane hit the South Tower. Sharon gasped, clutching Truffle to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized that if she hadn’t been delayed, she would have been sitting at her new desk when the first plane struck.

The playful chaos of the morning had saved her life.

Sharon and Truffle spent the rest of the day in silence, watching the towers collapse at 9:59 a.m. and 10:28 a.m. The city outside was eerily quiet except for sirens and the distant hum of helicopters.

As dusk fell, Sharon whispered, “America is never going to forget this horrible day.”

Truffle looked up at her, eyes glistening, as if to say, “Sadly, America will forget.  The future always forgets the past.  Always!”

In the years that followed, Sharon kept Truffle’s partially chewed keychain on her desk — a reminder of fate, innocence, and the fragile thread between life and death.

Every September 11, she would light a candle by the window of her apartment at 245 East 44th Street, hold Truffle close, and remember the morning her little dog became her guardian angel.

And once again, History is gently guided by a tiny paw.