The Stars Told Me Congratulations

“T-2 minutes. Crew members, close and lock your visors.” The robotic voice boomed throughout the space shuttle.

My stomach was sick. The scientists had told me that everything would be okay. They had evidence to back that up. Even so, the things that might go wrong plagued my mind. The engine could fail. The shuttle could run out of fuel. Communications could —

“T-10 seconds. Activating the main engine hydrogen burnoff system.”

 The space shuttle rumbled as it came to life. My stomach did not feel any better, and I felt as if I was in a dream. Sucking in another deep breath, I looked over to my crew members. Their faces showed equal parts trepidation and elation. Surely mine did too.

“T-6 seconds. Main engine starts.”

There was no going back now.

“Ready for takeoff. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. . . Liftoff! We have liftoff!”

And I was hurled out of the atmosphere and shot towards Mars.

. . .

It happened on the first day I truly looked at the stars. I was seven years old at that time. The stars glittered and beckoned to me that night, with only the cicadas to witness the stars’ seducing yet another soul. The grass rustled gently against my bare ankles, and ash floated about from the remainder of the Fourth of July sparklers. Everyone else had retired to bed, but I stayed to stare at the stars. I thought of many things that night. I thought the stars might be holes in the black ceiling of night. They might be stitches of glowing thread, sewn into dark cloth by a higher being. They might be the moon’s closest friends, and they kept the moon company when the Earth, the Sun, and everyone else was asleep. They were mine to stare at, and for that small moment, mine alone.

I didn’t know the stars’ true nature at the time. It would take a few more science classes for me to realize that they were, in fact, hot balls of gas. The teacher always phrased it so unromantically, so I always preferred my musings over her blunt manner of speaking. But ever since that first night, I knew I wanted to be an astronaut.

. . .

The crew had slowly settled into life on the space shuttle. I had always thought of life in space as some sort of enigma, but the mundane realities of our lives on Earth continued in our new environment. I still brushed my teeth every morning, and ate three square meals a day. (Except now, I had to swallow the toothpaste instead of spitting it out and most of the meals were freeze-dried.) Soon, I was able to sleep easily without contemplating malfunctioning spaceware. Astronaut Sara, on the other hand, did not cope as well.

The space shuttle was simulating night time with all of its lights off, and we were expected to sleep. However, after most of the crew had fallen asleep, I could hear sniffling coming from Sara’s direction. I unstrapped myself from my sleep compartment and floated towards her.

I knocked awkwardly on the glass of her sleeping compartment. “Hey Sara, are you okay?”

“Ah! You scared me,” Sara gasped. Her eyes were red.

“Have you been crying?” I asked.

“... yeah. It’s just… well… the whole space thing’s getting to me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Alright.”

Sara unbuckled herself from the sleeping compartment and gestured for me to follow her to the common area.

“Let’s go somewhere else so we won’t disturb the others sleeping.”

We floated towards the common area as I wondered what kept Sara up.

“So,” I started,  “What’s going on?”

Sara hesitated, and I almost didn’t notice. “Do you think I deserve to be here?”

Now I hesitated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It's just—so many people would kill for being in my shoes, a-and, it feels like I haven’t worked hard enough to get here. It feels like I should have done so much more.” She was starting to cry again now.

“Sara, you’re spiralling,” I said dismissively. “All of us worked hard to get to where we are, and us being here right now is proof of that.”

Sara was quiet, save for a few sniffles, before she broke the silence..

“I’m going to tell you a secret. Can you promise to not tell anyone else?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I was in high school and me and my friend both wanted to be astronauts. We would exercise, study, and do basically everything together. But as we worked harder, we also started comparing ourselves to each other. Both of us knew that he was the one who wanted this more. I had no passion or drive compared to him.” Sara took a deep breath to stave off tears. “I was alone and I had nothing I wanted to become, so I ended up stealing his dream. I thought that we were just sharing similar ambitions, but when he was rejected from the program of his dreams while I was accepted, I knew that I wasn’t sharing his dream. I stole it. A-and, so many people are going to look up to me. My name is going to be written in textbooks and third graders will read them and I’ll become their role models, but I don’t want any of that, because you know what the worst part of all of this is?”

Sara paused. Her efforts to maintain her composure were futile, and she was sobbing endlessly. I stayed quiet, afraid to say the wrong thing.

“He was rejected because his eyesight wasn’t good enough.”

She ended her story with even more sobs, and I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. Sara’s words forced me to confront my buried memories. All of the emotions conjured by her story and my own forgotten story overflowed inside my heart. I started sobbing along with her, and remembered.

. . .

It was career day at school in third grade. Everyone was dressed as what they wanted to be when they grew up. We were required to recite a speech of what we wanted to be, and why. I was jumping up and down in my seat, waving my hand furiously in the air for the teacher to call on me.

The teacher sighed and nodded in my direction. “Alright, you can come up.”

I could hear the subdued sound of my classmate’s giggles through my dad’s motorcycle helmet as I waddled in my tinfoil covered jumpsuit stuffed with cotton. I ignored their giggles and began my speech.

“A- ha - hem. When I grow up, I want to be an astronaut!” I exclaimed proudly, unaware that my words were being muffled by the helmet.

The teacher pinched the bridge of her nose. “Take off the helmet and say it again.”

I ungracefully shoved off my helmet. More giggles could be heard throughout the classroom.

“When I grow up, I want to be an astronaut,” I said, a little less proudly. Nonetheless, I carried on with my speech.

“I want to be an astronaut so I can go to Mars. I’m going to sit on Mars, and look at the stars in my space suit!” I was gaining confidence now. “I’m gonna get you all Mars rocks and tell you all about it!”

My words were met with silence.

“Is that all you have for us?” the teacher asked.

One of my classmates piped up, “You do know that you have to work hard and stuff to get to Mars, right? It’s not just about looking at the stars.”

“Remember not to speak without being called,” the teacher said before I could reply. “But your classmate is right. I’ll let you redo your speech if you want a higher grade, and please be serious this time.”

My stomach felt sick and my face reddened. “I’m serious! I’ll learn everything about Mars and outer space! I’ll work seriously hard, and make sure you regret doubting me!” I was close to tears.

“I want to get off this planet and go to another one just to get away from all of you!” I screeched.

“Do not raise your voice in my classroom!” the teacher commanded. My classmates weren’t giggling now, but laughing, and all the confidence I had leaked out of me. “Go back to your seat right now!”

I trudged back to my seat, utterly and wholly dejected. I was scared that they were mocking me, but in truth, I was even more scared that they were right. Was my dream too silly? I put my dad’s motorcycle helmet back on again to hide my tears. I decided that in spite of their giggles, I would go to Mars, and I would not get them space rocks.

. . .

I knew what to tell Sara now.

“Sara. Do you want to go to Mars?”

She nodded.

“Then that’s all that matters,” I said. “We’ve worked hard to get where we are, and it doesn’t matter if someone has looked down on us, or worked harder than us, because we’re here and we’re going to Mars! It’s no use looking back and wishing for something to have been different or worrying about what others are going to think, because do you get it? We can’t change our past, but we can make the future.”

Sara was still sobbing, but she was smiling through heavy tears now.

She whispered, “Thank you.”

. . .

“T-5 minutes. Crew members, ensure that your space suit is ready for use.” The robotic voice boomed throughout the space shuttle.

I took a deep breath as I slid my space helmet over my head. It was like putting on my dad’s motorcycle helmet again. I took in a deep breath, and imagined the third graders watching everything happen on their screens. How would they feel? Would I enchant them just as the stars had enchanted me so many years ago?

“T-10 seconds. Deactivating main engine hydrogen burnoff system.”

 The space shuttle rumbled one last time as it turned off. I gulped as I looked over to Sara. Her face showed equal parts trepidation and elation. Mine did too.

“T-6.6 seconds. Main engine closes.”

There was no going back now.

“Ready for landing. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. . . Landing. Safely landed on planet Mars.”

I took the first heavy step toward the planet. As my foot sank into Martian soil, red dust floated up gently like burnt sparkler ash, and the stars twinkled their congratulations for me.