Sweat poured from Robert Morgan's brow. The brave young Firefighter's hands gripped both sides of the ladder, as he climbed steadily higher, each step bringing him closer to the crucial task at hand. His finely tuned senses escalated with the extreme heat licking the skin of his face. Morgan's heart pounded. For a brief moment he thought of his own dear family safely tucked away in their warm beds upon this late December evening.

Squinting in an effort to see clearly through the dancing flames and persistent black smoke billowing from a third floor window just ahead, he could barely make out a frantic young mother holding tightly to her two young children. Desperate to save her little ones now choking on the acrid smoke surrounding them, Morgan could hear the woman's piercing screams pleading, "Save my babies!"

Biting his bottom lip, he tasted the salted beads of perspiration now covering his face. Suddenly a flashback raced through Morgan's mind, transporting him to just three months before to the day he'd received a gut wrenching phone call confirming an incredible truth. The commanding voice on the other end inquired, "Have you been watching the news? The Twin Towers... an inconceivable inferno. We need every able hand."

The unbelievable words echoed in Morgan's ears. "I'll be right there." his inevitable reply. Other Firefighters and various rescue personnel from around the nation would receive similar calls on that unforgettable day.

Morgan, his wife Angela and their eight year old daughter Sarah lived thirty-five miles from ground zero in one of New York's quiet suburbs.

From the time he was a young boy, Robert Morgan wanted to be a Firefighter like his Pop, now retired. Growing up Morgan was impressed with how content his father, one of his heroes had been with racing against the clock in an effort to save lives. To become a Firefighter, fearlessly facing one of the most dangerous elements in the world in order to save others was Morgan's destiny.

Since entering the Fire Department seven years ago Morgan could not recall enough experience to have fully prepared him for the magnitude of searing, unforgettable images which were now and forever stored in his memory. 

Embedded in his very soul were scenes of massive, catastrophic destruction. The overwhelming smell of death and the many fear-filled, grief-stricken and shocked faces were destined to haunt him for the rest of his life. The unavoidable loss of hundreds of fellow rescue workers and their echoing voices filled his very being, as he approached his appointed station along with the others called to help clear debris. Their mission clearly defined a critical attempt to find survivors on that tragic day of 9-11.

Morgan, not unlike many other citizens throughout the nation remembered exactly where he was and what he was doing as news media reports blared incessantly. Traveling home from a long night shift worked, he recalled his last words to his wife from his cell phone only moments before the initial broadcasts. "Hey sweetheart, I'll be home shortly, I just need to gas up." Upon leaving the service station Morgan turned on the car radio and heard, "Oh my God, they've just hit the second Tower…!" shortly thereafter, "The second Tower is going down fast!"

Dumb founded and shocked, his initial thoughts questioned, "Is this for real? Are they talking about the World Trade Center Towers?" Finally, the worst of all possible scenarios entered his mind, "Is my country being attacked…?" Morgan's heart and thoughts raced.

He switched stations and heard similar reports confirming an incredible truth, which filled his unbelieving ears. He heard over and over again, "The Twin Towers have been hit by two jetliners… several floors are on fire. The first rescue crews have arrived on the scene. The towers are crumbling to the ground. Firefighters trapped..."

Disoriented, he turned his car into the parking lot of a strip mall. Morgan searched for a shop with a television. He spotted an auto parts store and parked right outside the front door. Morgan entered the shop where other citizens had also gathered to watch the continual unfolding of events being broadcast over the small screen hanging from one corner of the ceiling. 

He glanced briefly at the others in the room. The news anchor's voice, along with horrific images cut straight through the eerie silence surrounding him. Morgan stayed glued to the monitor for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, the thought of Angela now seven months pregnant with their second child dissolved his intense concentration. He started for the door.

Exiting the shop, a huge lump formed in his throat as he noticed an elderly

gentleman's sorrowful look and two weeping young women. Morgan's thoughts drifted to the inevitable conclusion that, "Many will weep today."

Reaching his car with cell phone in hand, Morgan opened the car door and dialed. "Angela, pick up." He anxiously murmured. A sigh of relief escaped his lips upon hearing her voice, "Honey, the Towers! What's happening?"

"I don't know. I'll be there in a few minutes.” Morgan replied. “Are you and Sarah alright?"

"The school released the children early today. Sarah was frightened and cried for a bit, but she's doing better now. She said some teachers were crying and that made her cry, too. She doesn't understand what's happened and neither do I. Robert, please come now." Angela pleaded.

Driving home Morgan's thoughts were filled with an undeniable sense of insecurity and unspeakable grief, while trying to absorb everything that was transpiring. Lingering images flashed across his mind of planes torpedoing into the Twin Towers, desperate people running blindly through dust and debris, and reports of more possible terrorist attacks.

Pulling into the driveway his thoughts shifted to a conversation he'd had with Angela just the day before. Their discussion ended with what color paint to buy for the baby's room. Yesterday now seemed so far away. Upon touching the front door knob his cell rang. The familiar, commanding voice on the other end sounded urgent.

Morgan inhaled deeply. The sensation of his toes burning from the bitter cold invading the lining of his thick rubber boots and the frantic woman's cries mingling with the wailing sirens, suddenly drove his thoughts back to the present. The old, three-story apartment building completely engulfed in flames now, began collapsing.

Morgan gasped, as the ladder shuddered beneath him and then shook violently throwing him off. Free falling fast he could hear the pulsating sounds of rescue equipment and shouts from citizens gathering on the frozen ground below. The noise began to fade into the abyss of time, while a familiar beeping grew louder keeping pace with each rapid beat of his heart.

Morgan reached over and shut the alarm clock off knocking the small table lamp onto the floor. "Intense dream", he muttered, snuggling closer to Angela.

Sighing deeply, she responded, "I'm sorry sweetheart." She gently squeezed his hand whispering, "I love you", then drifted back off to sleep.

Meditating upon The Fireman's Prayer Angela had framed recently

and placed on the nightstand, Morgan thanked God for his wife and children, while peacefully watching the light snow falling gently outside the bedroom window.