Then I chuckled and I thought, fucking fuck I was 13 when it happened thirty gorram years ago.
And then I cried.
Because I am old and nerdy.
I can no longer think back on that day without hearing Silent Key in my head, Frank channeling Ms. McAuliffe, screaming, begging anyone to listen and believe,
I'M STILL ALIVE!
When you are an intrepid sort who believes you can fly, and even leave this earth to touch the stars there is always that risk that you will come crashing back down onto this big blue ball.
I believe that from the time she strapped onto that rocket to the time she fell to earth, she lived more in that brief time than most of us will even if we live to be a hundred.
Holy shitballs, Batman, I'm going into space! (She was a Batman fan according to something I read on the internet.)
The fucking exhilaration of it all as the rockets fired and then as they left the launch pad. The butterflies in her stomach giving way to the thought, wow, I am really doing this! I am actually going into space!
Then that fraction of a second to wonder, what was that? And an instant later the darkness up above was replaced by color blue as she realized that this amazing journey was on its way to being over.
Like any of us given a death sentence, she fought against the dying of the light. Instead of weeks or months to fight, she had seconds so she fought harder.
And in the minutes from when she left the earth to when she came back down to be swallowed whole by the Atlantic, she lived an entire lifetime packed with all the joy, the love, the excitement, the fear, and even the realization that it all has to end.
I didn't start off with any major point. By now you know these dribbles are just word vomit.
But it's hard not to think that some people can pack a lot of living into a short amount of time while others can waste a lot of time taking up space, wasting oxygen and barely existing for scores of years just to get to the end and wish they had more time.
I need coffee.