When I was young, I knew the sky to be blue and grass to be green. Basic truths made pretty in their simplicity.
As I aged, I learned of smog and hurried decay. Tragic truths made real in our hubris.
The sheer abundance of truths weighs down on me in my quiet moments. Pressing so heavily against my soul through the shell of my heart that something gave way, forcing a single question to bubble out of my fractured core:
Is there freedom from us?
***
Leaving my home behind to take to the stars was a surprisingly easy decision. Don’t get me wrong. There’s still people back on Earth. There is no horrific nuclear fallout that I’m escaping from by the skin of my teeth. Not in the traditional sense at least.
When my brother asked me why I was leaving, I didn’t have an answer for him. My answer was for me only, not crafted for the ear but molded to rest in my heart. So we sat there together on his porch in a perfect silence of my design. That evening springtime air lovingly coaxed me into relaxation along with my beer.
Our friendship was formed through silences like those. Lingering quiets that he always tried to deconstruct with his pesky curiosities and interests.
Much like my mother, he could never be content with the way things were. Most people won’t let things simply be. That’s their problem. It didn’t take me long in life to perceive this flaw.
The walls of my childhood bedroom perfectly cradled me with their infallibility. The eggshell white paint that was smeared over every inch of drywall left me queasy at times, reminding me of those fragile ovals of edible what-ifs that I hated. Still those walls were perfect.
So when I returned home from school one day to find that my mother had put up fresh new wallpaper over those perfect walls, I felt nothing but distress. It didn’t matter that the wallpaper was my favorite color. It didn’t matter that little images of my favorite cartoon character danced across that sea of color. It didn’t matter that the lead paint that once coated my walls was deemed “hazardous”.
What mattered were those queasy egg walls. Until they ruined them.
So of course I did my best to tear holes in that wretched wallpaper to reacquaint myself with the perfection the walls used to display.
And of course I ignored my brother’s silly attempts to ruin our silence. My actions, as righteous as they were, brought me nothing but failure on both occasions.
The paint wasn’t just covered up, but removed entirely. I could never get that perfection back.
When I invited myself to my brother’s home without a word, he would never take the hint. Every ten minutes or so he’d speak again, resetting the peace that I worked so hard to give us both. We’ve known each other for five years now, I even call him my brother, the least that he could do is act like it.
If only the rest of life were better, more agreeable, less committed to self-destruction.
My plastic straws became paper.
My favorite words became “hate-speech”.
It was as if the entire world plotted to take away everything good for no good reason. Still, that wasn’t enough for me to take leave on this private space expedition. My dad, my wise father, he is the one who finally swayed me shortly before he passed away.
His hairs had long since grayed, becoming precious silver slivers of knowledge gathered through the years. He smiled more, he liked things that he never liked before when I was still a boy. His features once hard and unyielding, had softened and gave way to something I can’t quite name. I wouldn’t dare name it even if I could. He was strong when I was young, I’ll remember him like that.
“You drank bleach as a baby, you ‘member that?” he regaled. I’d heard this story before of course, but never from him. “Yep…yep ya sure did. It was only a lil drop. Just a bit. The doc said that the stuff was deadly but it don’t taste too good, so you’d be fine if you don’t drink too much and ya surely wouldn’t be wanting to drink no more of it. Sounded good to us, til we realized how wrong he was.
“Boy after that ya couldn’ get enough of the stuff. We had to hide the whole bottle, yer mama and me. We sure did. I used to joke on you, I used to say…I said that that bleach had done stained you on tha inside and now you couldn’t get enough of it. I said you had bleach in your blood now, it made ya crave it. I thought tha bleach made ya who you were. Who ya are. But I was wrong. Boy I was dead wrong. Against all odds you just…liked it. Ain’t nothing to do with a baby who’d pick poison over milk. All these years later, lookin’ at’cha, you still ain’t choosing what you need.”
So now I’m here. Soaring through the cosmos with a shuttle full of what are surely like-minded souls. This is what I need, it’s what I’ve always needed. Everything behind me is tainted. It’s lost.
But I’m free.
After the craft had finished bursting from the atmospheric prison that once held us captive, the weightlessness slowly sets in. Gravity weakens its hold on us.
Now gently, ever so gently, gravity loosens it’s hold on me. The noose that is the past falls limp around my neck before slipping off entirely. All is well as my boot gently drifts upwards, now detached from the metal platform that briefly held claim to me.
Is this what rapture feels like?
Is this how the crusaders felt as they heard God’s calling?
Ascension.
I hear the other passengers murmur and gasp with excitement. Normally they’re abrupt exclamations would be ruining the perfection of this moment, but I’ll forgive it this once. Shifting my gaze to my flawed companions, I see them all flocking towards the sealed windows.
Ah yes, our new home. The boundless cosmos. All of the swirling galaxies that hang upon nothing in that endless space. Each of the blindingly brilliant celestial bodies that made those galaxies what they were.
I’ll steal a glimpse.
Wading over to the least crowded window, I press my face just up to the reinforced glass. My eyes eager to soak in this new sight, this glorious vision that only existed in photographs for me until now. This moment, I realize that my entire life has lead me here, to this moment.
I could cry.
I had a smile on my face. The joy had involuntarily activated the muscles in my face and around my lips to conjure a smile. I had a smile as I started staring out of that cold lifeless shuttle that I was locked in.
I know I did, because I felt it falter. My lips quivered and shook as the crumbling of my joy became undeniable.
All of those ethereal and heavenly bodies.
All of the infinite and unknowable vastness.
The wonder of the universe lay before me, just behind a layer of glass.
I see it all. But as my eyes soak up those fantastical colors, and I see the frozen dance of a million blazing stars, the yellows and blues, I feel the warm invite of a universe desperate to be seen by human eyes, the reds and oranges, I imagine the incomprehensible worlds no man has ever reached, the greens and pinks, I notice my faint reflection, softly laid over the entire vision before me. With tears in my eyes, I can’t deny…
I wish it were all painted eggshell white.
