The cooling kiln

The firing had ended before dawn, but the kiln had to remain closed until the afternoon. I walked past it so often that one of the others offered to bring me a chair. Around me, people confidently predicted brilliant colours and perfectly shaped bowls, but I would not join them. Heat had already altered our work in ways that none of us could now direct, and guessing would not change what we found. I was not afraid of disappointment. Instead, the wait gave me a new respect for the part of the process that continued after my own hands had finished. When the temperature finally fell far enough for us to open the door, I hesitated. I had enjoyed our hours of shared conversation, and lifting the latch would send us back to our separate benches.

Explain, in your own words, the writer's response to waiting for the kiln to be opened.