The Countdown

Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 29. 29 years old.
That number could scare me, I suppose. It means the decade of my 20's is almost over. Maybe it's intimidating because your 20's are your first full decade as an adult. You get to figure things out, all on your own. You get to do adult things and make the adult choices. No one looking over your shoulder telling you to do something different.
So you get comfortable in your 20's. They're a familiar place, a comfort place. You know your 20's. They're like an old friend.
So your 30's seem scary. Uncharted water. Places you've never been.

Now don't get me wrong. My 20's have been awesome. I met my husband, I got married in my 20's. I moved to Tucson. I've been to Brazil, to Europe. I've gotten to do incredible things. I've met incredible people. My 20's have been amazing. But it's like the book is closing, and a new one is opening.

And I refuse to be intimidated. I think my 30's are a beginning. A step into real life. Or, realer life, maybe. It reminds me of how I felt New Year's Eve, 2007. I knew 2008 was the year that was different. Every year prior I had been able to predict how the coming year would go. Nothing would change, it would all just be...the same. And it was. Until New Year's Eve 2007. I had nothing for 2008. Except that it was different. I knew I would meet my husband that year. And I did. It was just different than all the years past.

And that's how I feel about 30. Everything is gonna change. 29 is like the breath before the plunge. So now, I'm just getting ready. Things are gonna fall into place.
Another reason I love the Lord. He has this incredible way of bringing the right things at the right time. And the right things at the right time is chemical. It's reactive, it's cataclysmic. It's unstoppable.
And I really believe that's what my 30's are going to be. It's going to change everything. And I can't wait. It's only getting better.

So here's to the countdown.

September 11

It’s hard to believe it’s been 15 years. I still remember where I was. I was 13. Turning 14 in a week. I was woken up that morning to the startling news. Something had happened to one of the WTC towers in New York City. An explosion maybe? A bomb? A terrorist attack? No one knew. We sat in front of the tv and watched, desperate for news. Desperate for anything to clarify what was happening. I remember watching as a second plane came flying seemingly out of nowhere and collide explosively with the second tower. I remember the news anchor’s shock as they tried to maintain their composure on national television. 

I remember sitting in confused silence in our living room. I remember everyone trying to make sense of what was happening, trying to explain it or find a answer. 

I remember watching as you could see the people inside the tower, leaning out of windows. I remember the horror I felt as all of the sudden we realized that people were jumping. 

I remember the understanding that hit me when another explosion was reported at the Pentagon. I remember understanding that something evil was happening. 15 years later I’m still not confident we know all the answers. And I won’t waste time on speculation.

I remember being glued to the tv. Just wanting any news on what was happening. I remembered thinking about all the first responders that were rushing to the scene. Firemen, paramedics, police, random bystanders who knew something needed to be done. I remember swallowing my fear as I thought about what they were running into. 

I remember watching in shock as the first tower collapsed. All I could think about was the people. How many people were in the building? How many people couldn't get out? What would happen to the people in the streets? Would they be able to get away? Would other buildings fall as a result? I remember being mad that so many people couldn’t get out. I don’t know why I was mad, but it made me angry. 

I remember I couldn't think, as I watched that tower collapse. I couldn't get a hold on what was happening. I wanted to understand, to make it make sense, but it was all happening too fast. Everything seemed out of reach. There was no rational thought to be grasped. 

I remember desperately hoping that more people could get out of the other tower. I remember silently pleading that for some unknowable reason, the second tower wouldn’t collapse. I remember the shock when it did. 

Forgive me for being so morbid, but I remember thinking about the carnage. You see, I'd read the story of the Oklahoma City bombing. I was only 8 when it happened and didn't know much about it at the time. But I read the story when I was older because I wanted to know. I remember the accounts of the paramedics finding the fingers of toddlers in the rubble. It made me sick. Who could do that to children? But I couldn't imagine the carnage the first responders would find this time. I remember how sad it made me. How could they ever recover from what they would see that day?

I remember hearing the stories of the people on the planes. Calling loved ones, understanding their fate. I remember hearing the story of the heroes that didn’t allow the final plane to get to it’s destination. 

I remember sitting and listening to our president address the nation that night. I remember the sorrow on his face. I remember how many people hated him, but no one cared that day. I remember the words of courage he spoke to us. I remember that I was proud of him, because I couldn’t imagine having to lead our country that day. I remember that my heart was proud to be an American. 

I remember being angry that my country, in which I had always felt safe, was compromised. I remember laying in bed at night for months after and being afraid every time I heard a jet overhead. A childish fear, to be sure, but real nonetheless. I remember being afraid that every day I would wake up and hear about another attack. I remember watching every jet I saw just to make sure it was going where it was supposed to. As if me watching it somehow would make it so. I remember calculating what important landmarks and government facilities were nearby, just in case. 

I remember how people looked at each other differently. I remember how there was an unspoken brotherhood, a camaraderie; we were all in this together. Strangers, and yet, familiar at the same time. People just wanted to be kind to one another. I remember how first responders were national heroes. My, how times have changed. 

15 years later I still feel the sorrow at the horrendous loss of life. I can’t look back at the videos of that day. I can’t watch the horror of it all over again. 

15 years later. Fifteen years. 

I remember. I just remember. 

And I’ll never forget.