Our Last Call

I take the deepest breath of my life and settle my hands on the safety bar. My first time on the Moon and it's more than I could have ever hoped for. I came not for the craters. They're ten to the dozen here and always have a line. Nor to see if the Moon was actually made of cheese. Although, I'll admit I was a little curious. But seeing that man by the door of our shuttle spluttering over his handful of Moon dust quickly put an end to that question. 'It's just dirt!' apparently. No, I came for a break. A break from the pain. A break from Earth. 

I see its curves as I gaze down from the platform. Turning round and round like a carousel. I could almost swear it’s getting faster. Trying to wake up the riders. If only they would notice. Would listen. Would act. 

From where I stand, Earth is 238,855 miles away. A mere three hour flight. Yet my feelings, my emotions, my questions would wrap around the Sun fifty times and I'd still not be done. 

‘Calling for all those returning to Earth on the A63297. That’s all those on the 21:17 return passage to Earth. Please make your way to the main reception desk to await transfer.’ 

I don’t want to go back. Because no one cares. No one sees the clouds getting smaller, too tired to decorate the sky. No one hears the tree branches sagging, struggling to keep holding up the world. No one tastes the salty breeze, the air crying from the pain. No one truly stops to smell the flowers anymore. Notices how they are still sweet but a little bitter around the edges. Laced in anguish. The Earth is a teacup ride whose mechanics have broken. Those in charge have lost control and now we’re spinning way off kilter. And I just want off. Just want to breathe.

The Moon gave me that space. That respite. And oh is it intoxicating. I could stay here forever. Her dusty grey white expanse of nothingness aches in me. That sense of possibility. That fresh start. It’s all just so tempting. To stay here. To dream. To imagine. To breathe. 

On Earth, they say the grass is always greener on the other side. But I’ve looked either side, above, below, and nowhere seems as green as it used to be. It’s like everything’s faded. Colours, a paler hue. Birdsong goes unanswered. Calls thrown out and carried away into the breeze. 

And the worst part is I don’t even know how to help. Sure, I drink tap water instead of bottled. Try and walk more than I drive. I always take my polka dot carrier bag to the shops, and I wouldn’t dream of using a plastic straw. Instead downing my drink at 90mph before the paper straw goes squidgy. 

But is that enough? Doesn’t that emerald-sapphire of a sphere deserve more? It’s kept us alive for millenia and I’m too scared of it dying to try and save it. Just crossing my paper, not plastic fingers and hoping somehow, someway, it all works out. 

If not, what else is there? 

‘Last call for those returning to Earth on the A63297. That’s all those on the 21:17 return to Earth. This is the last call. Please make your way to reception immediately.’

I turn, pulled out by a tap on my shoulder. 

'You coming Miss? It's the last flight back today. If not you'll be stuck here until Tuesday.’ 

I take one last look at her. At our Earth. Still spinning. Still moving. Still stirring. I could almost swear she’s getting faster. And there’s no sign of her stopping just yet. 

‘Yeah, I’m coming. I’ve got some things to take care of.’