IT WAS ONE of those perfect New York autumn mornings—blue skies, a crisp breeze. A day when I felt lucky to live in the city. I was on my way out of my East Side apartment when the doorman waved his hand to stop me.
“A plane just hit the World Trade Center,” he said.
An image of John F. Kennedy, Jr., shot through my mind. He had crashed his private plane into the Atlantic Ocean two summers ago. These private-plane owners really don’t know what they’re doing, I thought as the doorman pushed open the door. It was a terrible accident to be sure, but an accident nonetheless. I expected to see something about this one in the paper the next morning.
I walked over to Lexington Avenue and hopped on the 6 train. I was on my way to 51st Street for my advertising agency job. I grabbed a seat and pulled out my book. Two stops later, a crowd of people pushed their way in.
Esta historia es de la edición Sept/Oct 2020 de Angels on Earth.
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Esta historia es de la edición Sept/Oct 2020 de Angels on Earth.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
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THE ANSWER
Could my husband’s recent retirement explain his behavior?
Sewing Hope
It wasn’t in my power to mend a broken heart, but I sent needle and thread, with chocolates for good measure
Problems? She Can Relate
Meet New Jersey’s Own Black Fairy Godmother
Valentine Angels
Straight from heaven—with love
The Humility Sisters
What would two nuns know about taking care of a baby?
Sophie's Secret
How could a dog know just what so many people needed?
Built by Angels
My mother called to ask if I knew the story of the 11 churches carved from single stones in Ethiopia
ONE RED GLOVE
Its message helped me shake the blues
Clutter, Be Gone!
Fifteen minutes a day keeps the mess away
A housewarming gift
My husband seemed to be in every room— even though I knew he was in heaven