It’s nearing sunset and the Earth is shining bright. She fills the sky, a swirling ball of blue and green and white like a flower blossoming in the sunlight. And I wonder, not for the first time, what it was like when my parents looked up here at the Moon.
What did my home look like to them, and how bleak a sight must it have been? It was a dead piece of chalk back then. Barren. A warning rather than an invitation… until it became a necessity.
Not like the Earth. Burning alone in the spotlight against a black curtain, she looks like life, movement, hope. She’s a promise waiting for me until the day I’m finally done here.
Whenever the heck that is.
I’m sitting in my apartment complex’s outer hallway, one of the few places where I can escape the always buzzing amber fluorescents. Instead, light comes in through long polycarbonate windows, reflected off the Earth above and the metal skin of our facility below.
Everything here is always in motion, alway