A Rocket Woman

Dear Xavier,

This is the last call. Last call for me to change my mind and be someone else. Last call to gather with the ones I love. The last call to look up at the stars from below and wish for the next great opportunity on the shooting ones. They tell you that knowing you are going to die can help you better prepare and appreciate the time you have left. I find it taunting and daunting. I find the thoughts intensifying and petrifying. I find this chapter in my life unsettling and unnerving. Ok, I promise I am done with the incessant rambling. What else is a person supposed to do when they are not sure how many words they have left? Even more specific, how many will cross the ears and eyes of those around me before I have passed. Most of my conversation will soon be directed towards myself. I voluntarily stood at the front of the line for this position. So, being metaphorically tied to the stake and burned alive was actually optional. Sue me… I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to be amongst the dreams and far from the wreckage we call an “evolving world”. Full translation being a pile of garbage on its way to mass extinction. End quote. Wanted is a strong past tense word. It is lacking a flavorful will to still want. However, there is no changing gears and reversing. There is no magical remote that could rewind me to the previous and final time they allowed me to abort. My new home is to be a hunk of metal and my bed a sleeping bag I have the privilege of being tethered to. I am on a mission to find a way to save what has been intentionally damaged, and in the process, losing all I have to do so. A one way mission with no slip allowing me passage back.

Of course what I will miss the most is my cat, Ms. Dahlia. My best friend and a true honor to room with. I may go crazy without her affectionate – and sometimes feisty – company. I think I will stay here tonight, curled up with Dahlia watching reruns of Psych until my eyes hurt so severely that I cannot keep them open any longer. I will stay here and make myself my favorite meal as this will be the last time I can enjoy the truly simple life as well. My cat, one of my favorite shows, and some delicious chicken parmesan, while sitting on an inviting couch that has creased around my body shape. A perfect night. What? Did you expect me to go track down my family who I have not spoken to in quite some time? Or the invisible friends that call and congratulate me when they see footage on one of my achievements? No? Well how about expecting me to do an activity I have never done before, like hiking up a mountain just to enjoy the view? Or maybe I could use my growing fame to meet one of my heroes before liftoff? I think it better experiencing these things from a far. For if I go and do it and dislike what I feel or see, then I have wasted the last of my time on a new experience. Dahlia does not disappoint, Psych only keeps me laughing and feeling hopeful, food comforts, and a couch is the best place to end a stressful night of thinking too much. My family does disappoint, friends have come and gone, and experiencing this world’s natural wonders has almost always found a way to backfire. I am done expressing for the night and will touch base in the morning right before liftoff. Till then.

Quick thing before I punch the clock and get all existential the next morning. I would like to thank you. I appreciate more than anything you taking in Dahlia once I am gone. She seemed to like you that one time you came over to my place when we ate some pizza while talking about Newton’s Third Law and Conservation of Momentum. Yes, maybe she just wanted a slice of your pie… but I do find it more reassuring the other way. I often think about that time. I wish we could have grown what we have into a friendship outside of work. You never know; it could have gone even further while the sparks were still lit. I left Dahlia’s feeding schedule on the fridge along with some adorable photos of her and me (that I obviously made copies of to take with me on this trip). I trust you to treat her with constant love as I have done since she was a little kitten. Looking back at those years of her sleeping on my chest growing in size, I noticed she was expanding the size of my heart to match. I am beyond grateful to have known you both. Ok, now goodnight.

This morning I am having trouble. Trouble writing. I cannot find the words past my sarcasm and cynicism. I am not good with the gooey stuff us women are supposedly famous for spewing. There are reasons I do not fit in. Last night was as close as I can get to being sentimental. All I can say is that most of the worrying has vaporized into the air and has given me a clearer breathe instead. I am finally realizing that this might be what I was created for. Maybe those years of feeling alien amongst other humans were practice for a greater purpose. To end this letter, you will be happy to know I did not run away (even though that may have been my initial instinct). Off in the near distance I see the rocket. It is a magnificent creation and most likely the last place I will ever inhabit. I will leave you with a song by Elton John that I find both fitting for this occasion and stuck playing in my head…

“And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time

Till touchdown brings me round again to find

I’m not the man they think I am at home

Oh, no, no, no

I’m a rocket man

Rocket man

Burning out his fuse up here alone

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time”

Something new might be exactly what I needed! Don't you think?! My apartment key is attached to the backside of this letter. Take care.

Warmest regards,

Penny