Standing out there in th dark, I felt many different things. One of them was pride in my fellow Americans, ordinary people who rose to the moment, knowing it was their last. One was humility, for I was alive and untouched by the horrors of that day, free to continue my happy life as a husband and father and writer. In the lonely blackness, I could almost taste the finiteness of life and thus it's preciousness. We take it for granted, but it is fragile, precarious, uncertain able to cease at any instant without notice. I was reminded of what should be obvious but too often is not, that each today, each hour and minute, is worth cherishing.
In that moment of darkness, a mix of emotions washed over me, particularly a deep pride for my fellow Americans who faced their final moments with courage. Ordinary individuals rose to the occasion, showcasing resilience and bravery when it mattered most. Alongside this pride, I felt an overwhelming sense of humility, realizing I was fortunate to be alive, untouched by the tragic events unfolding around me.
This experience underscored the fragility of life and the importance of valuing every passing moment. It reminded me how easy it is to take our lives for granted, despite their inherently uncertain nature. Each day, each hour is a gift that deserves to be appreciated fully, and I realized that the preciousness of existence should never be overlooked.