I won’t ever see my parents again.

I won’t ever see Luna shining in the sky.

I won’t see the sunrise or sunset.

I won’t watch the winds carrying clouds over Ohio.

Seven years.

I don’t know how to feel about all of this. So much emotion…hope, sadness, loss, and yeah…a little fear. What waits out there beyond the reach of our little blue world? Beyond the spinning wheels of Liberty? The red dust of Mars?

Nobody knows.

I’m afraid, but I’m not too afraid to go. I’m not too afraid to take that step across the threshold. It was my first trip to the candy store in Dayton, the last one in the neighborhood. They had those chocolates that the Amish people made. Licorice wheels and penny candy (that really cost 5 cents). My skinny little hand clutching a few dollars. Those tentative footsteps off the curb and across the street, Dad’s outstretched hand nowhere to be found. My first day out alone.

But I’m not alone. Hundreds go with me. Qiong, my friends and co-workers. Some of the brightest minds I’ve ever known. And we’re not alone, either. We go with the thoughts and prayers of billions. I heard the President’s speech. I heard all the speeches. Our last days were spent reading all the letters that came up through the feed. Lots of tears. Tears and cake.

Cake. God, I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten in eighteen hours. It’s almost time.

I’m off to be prepped. It’s scary. Exhilarating. Strange. Part of me doesn’t want to go. I’ve seen amazing things out here, down there. Done amazing things. But there’s something else that needs to be done before my time is up.

The signal remains strong. It’s out there. I’m going home.

- Hersh out.