14 minutes separate from writing this or being one who was on one of the planes that went through one of the towers 25 years ago today.

I was in Boston that morning, coming home from a weekend spent with a dear friend. I chose the flight via Denver even though it was more expensive, because I did not want to spend 4 hours in LA waiting to go home.

As I waited in line to check in at the United counter, I thought it was strange that the guy in front of me wore such a long black coat, had no luggage, and had a squeamish yet predominant presence.

I was appalled by the TSA girls, 4 of them, who were playing with their sunglasses at 5-something in the morning and were not paying a bit of attention to what was going on around them. In fact, I went through the metal detectors with my phone, and no one cared.

I went to Starbucks for a hot tea, and, not at all like me, I started a conversation with the guys behind me who were on the LA flight. They were bringing military equipment to LA and complaining that they were not reimbursed for their American Express expenses.

I wished them a safe flight and told them to have fun in LA.

At my gate, no one was in the waiting area, and I was told that they had placed me on the LA flight. The door to the plane was still open. I took my chance and ran down the tarmac to the plane.

The ladies at the counter were not happy with me, but I saw my chance, and I took it.

If I had never done that, I would not be here today, as the LA flight they moved me to was one that was hijacked.

The flight to Denver was so strange: the seat belt sign never came off, and the flight attendants went up and down looking distressed.

I put my music on and landed in Denver.

As soon as I touched down, I called home to remind Art to take the dogs to the groomer.

The only words coming out of his mouth were: You are alive.

Of course I was alive; what a silly question! I had no clue what was going on.

Art was speaking so fast, relieved and crying at the same time, as he was told to call a special phone line to get further information. The LA flight phone line.

Seeing the plane going through the towers and thinking I could have been one of the passengers is something surreal.

I still remember the conversations, the faces of those people that I spoke to.

The feeling of that day will never leave as long as I live and breathe. A complete sense of loss. Loss of the beautiful lives that will never see their loved one, Loss of memories that have never been made.

Since that day, I have never wished anyone to have a safe flight.

I still fly, and I do not let the fear get the best of me.

I am grateful for each morning that my eyes open.