I Yearn

I yearn for the stars. They yearn for me.

Space must be so lonely. Imagine being a star, alive for millions of years without anyone’s touch. Sometimes I feel like a star.

When I go outside on a clear night and I look up at the sky, I see them. I see those lonely angels. When they twinkle it feels like they’re calling out to me. It’s so strange to me how I can see them all but to them, I am nothing but a speck on a speck in a speck.

I look up at Vega, bright and dazzling, and it feels like she’s almost bragging next to the faint dots around her. Sometimes I see Polaris and I can feel her envy of Vega.

Sometimes I also see Venus in the sky. Our next door neighbor. So close, yet so far.

And the moon.

On July 20, 1969, WE, HUMANITY, not the “United States,” landed on the MOON. WE STOOD ON THE MOON.

People fail to realize how extraordinary that is.

The Artemis program, run by NASA, will send us there again. But I sit here on Earth, watching rocket launches, envious like Polaris is of Vega, because I yearn for not only the stars, but to be placed on top of a rocket. I may not touch the stars, but I’ll get closer than most people have.

And I will sit atop that rocket, and when I reach space, I’ll look out and wave and say:

Hello Vega, hello Polaris. I’m home.