After years of not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, years of trying different careers only to hate them in the end, I’d finally found my passion: TV Journalism. It was like being in love. An endless energy for late nights in the newsroom or in the field helping a reporter file their story.

In between all of that, I went to class: Journalism School – Northeastern University, Boston, Mass. Every waking moment was devoted to the cause. I could not get enough.

Even though I’d gotten a late start (25-years-old - ancient for first time TV Reporters), I worked my way through journalism school to pay the bills along with scholarships, grants, loans and any other money I could get my hands on… and honest to God, I did it with a smile on my face. To try and catch up with reporters who already graduated, I worked seven days a week at NECN (New England Cable News) and Circle.com (an internet marketing company). The experience was great. Tons of writing, interviewing, and breaking news highs that lasted for days.

So as graduation was finally in sight, I’d already been working in the business for two years. Since I knew I was late to the game, the pressure was on. I had to be the best, the hardest working intern, associate producer, and top student.

It was nothing short of a miracle that I was going to graduate. I remember the tingle up my spine when I started my last semester. When it finally hit me that I was there – It’s one of those moments when you realized you are going to make it. That sort of quiet smile with tears in your eyes and so much excitement in your heart you think you are going to explode.

The moment I’d been working so hard for was within reach. I was finally going to graduate, walk across the stage, cap and gown, the whole thing. I had the date memorized. It became my rallying cry… the date I would finish the marathon I started running years before. It was circled, highlighted and underlined on my calendar. I would walk across that stage on September 11, 2001.

The second most excited person was my best friend, Melissa. We’d been through a lot together: boyfriends, break ups, planned her wedding, and welcomed her son (and my Godson) Jack into the world exactly two years before on 9/11/99. We even fashioned ourselves New Englanders, picking apples, baking apple pies… and burning them! She lived a couple of hours away and was going to be there when I walked across that stage.

We made big plans. My mom agreed to host a brunch before the late afternoon ceremony. A couple of weeks before the big day, I spent the night at Melissa’s. She said, “I want you to go ahead and open your present.”

I carefully tore the paper away from the small box, and opened it. Inside was a velvet pouch closed tight with a drawstring. I untied the pouch and pulled out a stunning sterling silver compact mirror… It was beautiful, complete with a small handle and baroque accents. It was small enough to tuck away inside of a purse. And on the back of the mirror was an inscription: “September 11, 2001 Carpe Diem” (Seize the Day). I was blown away, what a thoughtful and extravagant gift.

Neither of us had any idea how fundamentally appropriate those words would end up being.

Most of my five brothers and sisters flew in to Boston to be a part of my graduation. My mom, stepfather, dad were all in town. The day before the graduation we spent the day on the north shore, driving to Gloucester to eat lobster rolls and drove back through “witchy” Salem, Mass. It was an incredible day. We drove back to the city late that afternoon, going over the plans for Tuesday – meet at the Museum of Fine Arts at 11 a.m. for the luncheon ... graduation in the afternoon, dinner that night.

September 11, 2001 – I bounced out of my South Boston bed bright and early. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. No humidity. I practically skipped to the parking garage where my car was parked. I was about to get into the car when my cell phone rang. It was my brother Tim. He was sick at home in South Carolina and couldn’t make the trip.

“Anna! A plane just hit the World Trade Center,” he said. I ducked when he said it. I don’t know why.

I climbed into my car.

“Tim! Was it a little plane?”

“Anna, it was a big plane!”

My heart was racing. I was short of breath. We went back and forth like this for several minutes until this..

“Oh My GOD! Another plane just hit the other tower! Oh my God!”

He saw it LIVE.

“Tim, call Mom and tell her what happened, then call me back.”

It was bizarre. I was in shock. And I kept going through the motions of my day. My dad helped me get through school. I bought a present for him and needed to pick it up. I started to drive out of the city about 12 miles to pick it up. The phone just kept ringing with updates.

By the time I picked up Dad’s present and went into the small town post office to drop something off, everyone there was crowded around the television set. And the pentagon was smoking. It hit me like a ton of bricks. America was under attack.

I can’t remember if we knew yet that the planes had left from Boston. But at that point they thought more planes were missing. There was a Sears Tower scare. And my family was sitting in the middle of one of the largest cities in America. I thought, “I’ve got to get to Boston and get them out of that city now!”

I wasn’t the only one that thought occurred to. The city started to empty. As I drove back into the city on edge, the phone rang. This time it was Melissa. She was on her way to Boston with my godson and her new baby girl.

“Anna, I don’t know if you have heard but I am listening to the scariest thing on the radio…”

“I know. I know all about it. It’s good that you called. I’m driving to get my family out of Boston. Maybe I am over reacting. They said there are other planes.”

“Anna, Michael works in the twin towers.” Melissa was talking about her brother-in-law Michael Hannan.

That second is forever frozen in time.

“Melissa. Where are you?”

“I’m in Sturbridge,” she said (right on the Massachusetts/Connecticut border.) “I think you should pull off the turnpike and stay there,” I said, “Try to turn off the radio. I will call you the minute I know anything.”

I was nearly in downtown Boston when she called again. “Anna, they can’t reach him. They tried to call and can’t get him on the phone.”

“Melissa, I bet he’s already out. Don’t they have fire drills all the time?”

We hung up again. I could not reach my family. I just hoped they would all make their way to our luncheon spot. I can’t remember how I found out that the towers collapsed. I can’t remember if someone called me or I heard it on the radio. I just remember that horrible feeling –knowing I had to call Melissa and tell her.

“Melissa?”

“What is it?”

“Melissa, I think you need to turn around and go home to be with your family. They are going to need to get in touch with you… Melissa, the towers just collapsed.”

It wasn’t a scream. It’s hard to describe the sound she made. It was a lot of things: grief, terror… it was knowing in a deeply painful instant that everything was changed forever.

That moment was clear. The ones that followed were not. It was confusing. Was Michael alive? Was he wandering around NYC with amnesia? Was he buried under debris, awaiting rescue?

Back in Boston, I found my family that morning and loaded them into the car. We stayed outside the city at a relative’s house for hours until everything seemed under control. With the airlines shut down, most of my family would be stranded for days.

Late on the night of the attacks I made it back to my neighborhood, parked my car in the garage, I walked the three blocks to my apartment. I passed the auditorium where the graduation was to take place. I grabbed a flier: “Due to Terror Attacks: Commencement Ceremonies Cancelled.” How irrelevant graduation had become. That bright and cheerful morning of 9/11 seemed like a year ago.

A couple of weeks went by. Melissa had tied a yellow ribbon around the tree in her front yard along with the story of Michael Hannan: a father of two beautiful little girls, a husband, a brother, and a friend.

Eventually - and it took some time - everyone had to accept that he was gone. Melissa replaced the yellow ribbon in front of her house with a red, white and blue one. I remember staying with Melissa’s children and the doorbell rang. A neighbor handed me a check, “This is for Michael Hannan’s family.” To bear witness to the horror of 9/11 and at the same time ... the incredible kindness of the people all around us. Words can’t describe ... words don’t do it justice ... except for these: “Carpe Diem.”

Those words inscribed on the back of that sterling mirror next to the numbers 9/11/2001. Seize the day, the only one we have: this one.