On Sept. 11, 2002, the Kansas City Star published readers’ reflections on the one-year anniversary of 9/11. This was mine:
I don’t think anyone will forget my birthday. Not my 31st, anyway. I believed the end was near. I wondered if anyone would live to see my 32nd.
How shameful that it took 3,056 people suddenly dying for me to understand: Every day is priceless — to be embraced with joy and gratitude and, more importantly, shared. Not just because today might be my last, but because each day is good.
I pray that any contributions to humanity’s well-being I am driven to make in this travesty’s aftermath will not only honor those who have lost the chance, but will also atone for their senseless demise.
A year older and a great deal wiser, I will never forget those people. In their honor, I offer penance for my own complacency and lust for petty restitution, as well as reconciliation to heal broken relationships.
I still have time.