15 years. It feels like a lifetime ago, and somehow it was just yesterday too. It's weird going back to that day.

The day I grew up really quickly.

I was sitting in health class in my middle school back in 6th grade, as another teacher ran in exclaiming "The World Trade Center was hit!" and quickly switched on the classroom television. We sat watching. Smoke fuming from the building.

In 6th grade, you barely know what New York is, much less the World Trade Center. It seemed bad. It was confusing. I didn't know how to feel. As we watched the TV, the next few minutes proved to be filled with the constant buzz about "how could this have happened?" and so in an effort to resume class, our teacher muted the TV and returned back to teaching.

Until the second hit. And they knew. They knew it was more than an accident.

Someone told me the second tower had been hit, and I told them "No, it was already hit earlier. What do you mean the second one?" See, you're young at this point. Your view of the world is small and limited. Farthest I'd ever known or seen was Mississippi, and that was from the confinement of my car and grandparents home. I learned that day what the World Trade Center was, and how there were two large towers that peaked above the NY skyline. I saw the NY skyline that day. I saw the world that day. A world that could be filled with hate and loathing.

We were America. Didn't people love us? Didn't they want to be us? How could they hate us?

The TV volume was turned up from that point on. Going from class to class as each teacher had the news streaming constantly throughout the day.

The world stopped that day. At least from the Eastern Time Zone to the Pacific Time Zone. No one cared that we weren't doing school work. No one cared that teachers weren't doing their jobs. Everyone knew. You knew that life wasn't going to be the same after this. This had changed every thing we'd known to this point.

I remember thinking that Christmas, and every Christmas after that, how the magic of Christmas was gone. And while those two don't seem connected at all, I think that day started chipping away at my childhood. I had to grow up to know what was going on, and that meant letting in parts of the world that my parents had shielded me from. Life just couldn't be the same after that day. The magic was gone.



And so tonight, I really wanted to watch a tribute to 9-11 and just remind myself of where America has been and where it is today. We turned on the TV at 8pm, and began to watch History Channel's special 102 Minutes That Changed America. I was hoping for a memorial of that day, testimonies from people who were there, those that had family members, but instead it was 102 minutes of what took place. First hand videos minute by minute.

I didn't sign up for this. But they didn't either.

Our den was silent as Stephen, Matt and I watched for the next 2 and a half hours the horror that took place that day. The hurt. The confusion. The terror. The questions. So many questions.

It's weird experiencing that day again as an adult. Knowing what these people were about to face. Wanting to scream and warn them through the TV. Knowing what we would face over the next few years in result of this.

And then finding hope. Knowing that we rebuilt. That we didn't forget. We'll never forget.

Three Books | You've Read, Are Reading, and Want to Read

Let me preface this with I'm not much of a reader. Although the past 3 months or so I've been trying to read. So really because my memory is so short, this is just a collection of the last few books I read.

Read: On Folly Beach by Karen White 

From the beginning, just like Emmy, you become engulfed in the mystery of a past love and secret messages. This book had me hooked from the first chapter, and as I flipped from chapter to chapter, each person's perspective changed too, meaning I never grew weary of the story. Plus it taking place on an island I love was an extra dose of goodness.

Reading: The Time Between by Karen White

I know, I know. I just gave you another book by her. I'm kind of hung up on SC Fiction right now, and Karen White gives a heavy dose of it in most of her books--including her obsession with pluff mud. This book was good, but I really didn't get interested until the last tenth of it. Not nearly as engaging as the first one, but still a great story. The fact it took place on Edisto Island where I practically spent all my beach vacations with my family, put me right down on the Island in the midst of this story. I could see it all taking place, and where it took place.

Want to Read: I have no idea. It will probably be another Karen White for simplicity sake. Although there are one or two "self help/devotion" books I've seen a few other people reading I think might be good. That description is not accurate, but it's about as close as I can think of a way of describing them. Any suggestions?