I was organizing my closet just now and had to pause when I saw my Memorial Marathon medals hanging on the wall. It hit me that 17 years ago tomorrow, Timothy McVeigh set off a bomb at the Alfred P. Murrah Building that would kill 168 men, women and children, including my cousin, Blake.
I remember that day, and the days and weeks that followed, as clearly as my little mind could capture them. I was five, in kindergarten. Blake was 18 months old, and I remember playing hide and seek at his parents house with him and Steve. When I learned of the bombing, I was at my Grandpa and Grandma Sparks house. I was too little to really get it, but I knew my family was sad. For a long time afterward, I can remember thinking he was just hiding, that miraculously they would find him somewhere in OKC. I don’t have any eloquent words or exciting stories. Just some advice.
Hug your family extra tight tonight. Say I love you and mean it. Chase your dreams. Tomorrow is a gift, not a promise, and you never know what it might bring.