When I was ten years old, I had a scrapbook. Not a fancy one, just pages filled with whatever I could find. We didn’t have endless access to information the way we do now. What I had were local newspapers, and if there was anything about space, anything about astronauts, anything about the moon, I saved it. Every clipping. Every photo. Every word. Because I was going to be an astronaut.
I didn’t fully understand the science, or the politics, or the cost, or any of the debates that surrounded it. But I understood awe. I understood what it felt like to look up and believe that something extraordinary was possible.
No, I didn’t become an astronaut. But life has a way of bringing things back around. I’ve had the opportunity to spend time with Chris Hadfield over the years, and I was invited to the Canadian Space Agency for the splashdown event when he returned from the International Space Station, landing in Russia. That day, I met David Saint-Jacques and Jeremy Hansen, part of that next generation of astronauts. David has since had his time in space. And today, as it stands, Jeremy has his.
And I will be watching.
Not as someone weighing policy or arguing priorities. There will be time for all of that. But today, I’m choosing something else. I’m choosing to sit with that same feeling I had all those years ago. That ten-year-old girl with her scrapbook, cutting out pieces of a future she didn’t yet understand, but believed in anyway.
Not everyone will feel this the same way, and I understand that. But more than half a century later, that little girl is still here. She’ll be looking up at the sky, still watching, still believing, and still wanting to be an astronaut when she grows up.
Godspeed, Jeremy.
Nancy's Notes 