We were all somewhere when we found out about what happened in Oklahoma City 18 years ago today.
Most of us remember it.
I was five years old. I could have been a kid in daycare, but I lived in northern Indiana with a stay-at-home mom. I don’t remember that day. I was likely playing or doing a craft with my mom or that could have been a morning I was at preschool at a nearby church.
I do, though, remember that Sunday at my church. I remember being told that children my age had passed away in a far away place called Oklahoma City. I remember my dress blowing in the wind and clouds in the sky as a newly planted tree stood firm out front of our church.
Now, I can relate that day at church to windy days of work I’ve had throughout my past nine months of living in Oklahoma. It was like the typical wind of Oklahoma City was in South Bend, Ind. that day.
That Sunday, I watched as our priest and parish stood around the newly planted tree as we prayed for those who lost their lives in Oklahoma City.
Even in South Bend, Ind., we did – and still do – remember those who lost their lives 18 years ago today.
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