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As she sits talking in the bright sunroom of her family's Northside home, Erin Bower's dazzling smile puts the sun to shame. And those eyes - - as blue as the deepest parts of the ocean. The stunning Cathedral High School senior could pass for a fashion model in her trendy clothes and hip hairstyle. Even her nails are polished and that's some feat for a girl with only one hand. "It's no big deal. I just put the brush in my mouth," the 18-year-old says with a giggle.

Erin is humble. It is a big deal. But after years of overcoming obstacles, maybe painting her nails with her mouth is one of Erin's easier tasks.

It's been 13 years of obstacles, to be exact. It was on April 17, 1989, that Erin and her family were shopping at the Castleton Kmart when she picked up a tube of toothpaste that turned out to be a homemade pipe bomb. That day 5-year-old Erin Bower's life changed irrevocably.

Many Indianapolis residents remember being glued for weeks to news reports on Erin's condition. "There was national and international coverage of this," recalls Charles Petersen, the local agent for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms who headed the case in 1989 and is now retired.

Erin's memory of the event is sketchy. She remembers that the colorful Crest pump caught her eye, especially since it was out of place on a shelf next to the dull garbage bags. "I looked inside and there were wires and I knew something was wrong. Then I set it down and that's when it blew up."

Agent Petersen says she was lucky because it detonated outward away from her chest. Erin's only other memory is screaming that her stomach was burning.

Her mother, Maureen, remembers it all too clearly. "We were simply getting garbage bags," she begins. Erin was walking beside her and Erin's 18-month-old sister, Megan, was sitting in the shopping cart. When the bomb exploded, Erin's and Maureen's clothes caught fire from the bomb fragments and the ignited clothes were burning Erin's stomach and Maureen's legs.

At first Maureen didn't notice Erin's arm because she saw that something was terribly wrong with her left eye. Then she looked down and realized there was little left of her hand. Erin's father, Kevin, who had been farther down the aisle, acted quickly to tie off the wound and stop the bleeding.

A paramedic and a medical student happened to be in the store and when they heard the screams they rushed to administer to the family. Erin was life-lined out of Kmart to Methodist Hospital, her parents not knowing if she would live. Maureen was in an ambulance being treated for burns and in the confusion Megan got lost. Uninjured, Megan had been in the care of a stranger and soon was reunited with her family.

Doctors and surgeons fought to save Erin's life that day, and as day turned to night Erin was in surgery that, as Maureen remembers it, "lasted forever and ever and ever." What remained of her left hand was amputated. Shrapnel imbedded in her face and stomach was removed. Her left eye was badly damaged and she had no vision in it. Shrapnel missed blinding her right eye by a millimeter.

Erin was in the hospital for the next six weeks and the Bower family was traumatized. Megan, who had witnessed the blast from her seat in the shopping cart, was in shock and didn't speak for two weeks. Doctors' reports painted a bleak picture for Erin, and Maureen became deeply depressed.

"I knew Erin would never be the same again, no matter what, without her hand and without her vision - - at that point we didn't know if she would see at all. And I kept thinking to myself that I never would have had children if I'd known how bad this would hurt. That's how I felt."

But what Maureen couldn't know at the time was that Erin is like the alpine flowers that blossom in the most brutal mountain soil. In spite of all she's endured, she's grown into a lovely, well-adjusted young woman.

Erin says the worst moment was seeing her amputation for the first time after the bandages were removed. "I screamed for them to wrap it back up," she says. But soon she was fitted with a flesh-colored prosthetic arm and her spirits brightened.

Having nine eye surgeries in as many years was agonizing too, in part because Erin is allergic to anesthesia and gets violently ill. "I dreaded those," she says quietly. Finally after all those years, the decision was made to remove the damaged left eye that never had regained vision.

Before her freshman year of high school, a prosthetic eye was built and attached to her eye muscles. "Now no one can tell the difference," she says. That was her last surgery, her recovery finally complete after nearly 10 years. "I'm thankful there are no more surgeries."

Erin says she isn't self-conscious about her injuries. "No one has ever treated me any differently. I don't really think about it." But life with one hand and one eye hasn't been easy. She says tying her shoes was the hardest thing to master and she still has trouble sometimes, especially when the shoelaces are short. But after "a ton of practice" she eventually got the hang of it.

And styling her hair was a challenge she's just conquered over the past year. The natural-born lefty learned to write with her right hand and sister Megan says her handwriting is "so beautiful it's annoying." Learning to drive was twice as hard because of her difficulty turning the steering wheel and because with vision in only one eye she has trouble with depth perception. But there's not much she can't do once she puts her mind to it.

Erin's amazing adjustment has to do, in part, with some tough love on the Bowers' part. She never was coddled throughout her ordeal. Maureen and Kevin knew early on that she had to learn to manage by herself. She has been expected to wash dishes, clean her room, help with laundry - - everything Megan and 11-year-old Kevin have to do. But Erin's circumstances haven't been all about challenges. They've also meant a childhood of memorable "arm bloopers."

Her first prosthesis was myoelectric; the hand electronically opened and closed. Once when she was in the third grade it clenched onto the leg of her desk and died. "I had to drag the whole desk up to the front of the room to get the teacher's help," Erin says.

In gym one year, the class was standing in a circle holding hands when hers came off, much to the shock of the little girl standing next to her who was left holding it. "She was so upset she wet her pants," Erin says, chuckling. Another truly classic moment happened during an eighth grade volleyball game when she was serving the ball. It was a good serve but not just the ball soared; her entire arm flew off. "The other team was in shock, our team was laughing."

From the beginning she's had a supportive group of people around her - - her family and understanding friends who help her cope. High school pal Megan Barkley says none of their friends are phased by Erin's prosthetics. "She doesn't make a big deal of it so we don't. When she spends the night, I'm used to seeing her arm sitting on my desk when she's in bed," Megan says.

Her teachers and coaches at Cathedral have nothing but glowing praise for Erin and what she has accomplished over the past four years. A member of the National Honor Society and a consistently high honors student, Erin has been a member of the cross-country and track teams, writes for the school newspaper and mentors freshmen and sophomores.

Senior religion teacher Jim Obergfell says he's seen Erin frustrated at times, but, he says, she's a role model for her classmates. "She humbles them. They see that her limitations don't slow her down and that inspires them."

He says several seniors in this year's class wrote their college essays about her and the impact she's had on them.

But the quality that really impresses Obergfell is Erin's capacity for empathy. And she's most empathetic toward her parents. "There's a sadness there for her mom and dad and what they've been through. She knows they feel bad because they couldn't do anything (to prevent the accident)."

Vice Principal Tom Greer says, "You'd never know she has a disability. It's a great testimonial to her that she didn't allow it to stop her from achieving her goal." Erin was Cathedral's nominee - - and winner - - of this year's Abe Lincoln Scholarship awarded by the Kiwanis Club of Indianapolis. The scholarship is designed to "reward a student for a history of overcoming adversity, as evidenced by an unconquerable human spirit."

Erin will graduate from high school next month and go on to college in the fall. She wants to go into the medical field and is thinking about being a physical therapist. "I'd be a good one," she says.

Neither Erin nor her family spends time dwelling on the accident. And they've never given much thought to the bomber. "I can't even tell you his name," says Maureen. "People have asked me if I hated that kid. I can't say I ever hated him. Actually, I could forgive him."

But the kid, David Swinford - - a Noblesville teen-ager with an interest in explosives - - committed suicide two days after the bombing. His mother is reported to have said he may have been remorseful after hearing that his bomb severely injured a little girl who resembled his 4-year-old sister.

"I feel bad for him," says Erin, "and sometimes wonder where the family is and if they ever think about me." The Bowers have never heard from Swinford's family.

A few days after our interview, Maureen is talking with me on the phone and poses a question to Erin. "If God came down and said you could have either your hand or your eye back, which would you choose?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Erin answers, "My hand!"

It seems fitting that neither of them even considers asking for both.