So today, I am here. I am warm. I am alive.
I am in my home, surrounded by the things I’ve collected over the years. My family is here—my wife, my dog, my cat. My car is in the garage, ready if I need to leave. The ocean is close by, and so are a few old friends.
I am alive—and if you are reading this, so are you.
Of course, I know what the future brings. It brings an end—to me, to you, and to all living things. The absolute certainty of not being haunts us all. The fear of not being cannot be swept under the rug.
We have our time.
And then, we are out of time.
