Far Away, And Soon

I don’t suppose you’ll get this letter before I shove off, Phil, but I wanted to leave you with a few words all the same.

You’ve probably known me longer than just about anyone, and you know that I’ve always been a dreamer. You probably recall that I used to dream about being an astronaut. I had that plastic helmet, the shiny silver spacesuit, and the bright green moon boots –the whole nine yards– and I think I spent one entire summer going around the neighborhood in that get-up.

My old man sent me that outfit from Florida, where he was living with his new wife. I kept the card he sent along with the spacesuit for a long time, but somewhere it got lost in the shuffle. I’d long since memorized the words he wrote on that postcard of a spaceship, though: “They’re shooting rockets at the moon. Soon you’ll be free to go.”

Those words puzzled and thrilled me for many years, and I suppose many of my frustrations and disappointments in life have been directly related to that card and its message. I never wanted anything so bad as I wanted to be free to go, and that fierce desire made it awful difficult for me to live any kind of normal life.

Imagine working at the Woolworth’s when you’ve had your heart set on outer space ever since you were a little boy.

It was impossible, to be honest with you, but I muddled along the best I could.

I finally decided it’s time, though, Phil. It just occurred to me the other morning that there’s really not a thing in this world stopping me.

I’m free to go, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.