Remember where you were eight years ago?

I do.

I was at home with my mom, sister, and brother. I was in eighth grade, and the three of us were home schooled. I had just finished some algebra work and had headed downstairs to attempt a science project with my siblings. I don't remember the project, but I do remember that it bubbled over and wasn't working right. As Mom searched the book trying to figure out what we had done wrong, the phone rang (home phone - I don't even think we had a cell phone at that time). Normally, Mom didn't answer much during school hours, but she did that day. It was Ms. Jill, a close friend of my mom's and at the time, my brother's soccer coach who worked at a local private school.

"Carrie, turn on the news."

"Jill, we're..."

"Carrie, turn on the news."

Ms. Jill knew we rarely had the news on and also knew we wouldn't have anything on or be in the car for several hours since we were at home working on school work. She had the presence of mind to call my Mom so that we would know what was happening.

I'm not sure exactly what Ms. Jill told my mom, but it made her move. I've seen my mom run on very few occasions, and this was one of those times. She bolted from the kitchen into the den, jabbing at the TV's power button frantically. Hearing the seriousness in Mom's tone, the three of us followed her in.

The first channel wasn't showing much, but the voices of the news anchors were grave. It was too silent. The camera only showed billowing smoke from a building.

Mom flipped the channel again, still on the phone, asking questions. As she changed the channel, I witnessed what I hope will be the most horrific thing I will ever have to see: a plane flying into one of the Twin Towers. We flipped channels again and saw the news about the Pentagon.

"We have family there," one of us murmured.

I don't know how long we sat there, confused, dazed, pulling out encyclopedias to look up the buildings and what they housed. I don't know how many faces of the dead, injured, and other victims I saw that day. I know that as long as I live, I never want to see something like that again.

Mom got off the phone with Ms. Jill and called Dad at work, telling him to turn on the old black and white TV at his store. For a few minutes, time froze as we gazed at the TV, stunned. We forgot about the failed science project bubbling and dripping all over the kitchen sink. We forgot about our math work. We forgot about reading. Mom began to make phone calls to see if our family and friends in the DC area were okay. Although it took hours, we eventually heard back from everyone, and we thanked the Lord that we had not lost any loved ones.

We spent a lot of time in prayer and the Word that day. I remember getting chills as we watched footage and I remember Mom eventually turning it off. It still didn't keep me from getting scared and those images still haunt me.

As I walked to campus this morning, took my quiz, then walked to work, I walked across MSU's Drill Field. My memories of 9/11/01 came flooding back as I came face to face with our flag at half mast. The Drill Field was silent, the sky was overcast, and the fly drooped - no wind, no movement. I stopped and stood for a moment, reflecting and trying to gather my thoughts.

I don't care how old I get or how many years go by - I don't think I'll ever be able to forget September 11th or stop the memories that come rushing back with it.