A bright spot named Carroll

“If you can't take love to the stars, then what are we doing?" Amit Kshatriya, NASA Associate Administrator

If you looked up at the moon 9 days ago, there was a bright spot on it that did not have a name. Now, it does.
Its name is love, spelled C-A-R-R-O-L-L.

Is there anyone on this planet not in love with Carroll, spouse of Reid, and mother of Katey and Ellie? Does Reid know that now, when many of us look up at the moon, we say hello to her?

Artemis II’s mission is historic, but you don’t need me to tell you that. That it came at a time where many of us were gasping for air that wasn’t marred by war, or hate, or politics? That is undisputed.

This mission came with expectations. We expected them to be good. We expected them to break records and go farther than anyone ever had. We expected competency. We expected scientific and technological achievements. We expected professionalism. We expected all of the things that they knew we expected of them. So why is it, when they delivered, we were so emotional?

Could it be that we have grown so weary and jaded, that we expect people to do just what is expected of them? Could it be that we are no longer used to seeing competent, extraordinary people doing extraordinary things? Could it be that, in watching what continues to unfold in our daily lives with those in government and power, we had come to believe that it was no longer possible to have a group of people driven by the desire to be the best version of humanity that they could be? Not one person, not four people, but thousands of people, together, aimed at a single goal, and bringing forward the best versions of themselves to do it? Worst yet, could it be that we all had fallen victim to the idea that, if such a group did exist, they would have to, at the very least, leave their emotions and vulnerabilities behind? In retrospect, how did we not expect some of the smartest, most courageous people in our solar system to be brave about experiencing their emotions, too?

As I type this entry, Koch, Glover, Hansen, Wiseman, and a now famous jar of Nutella make final preparations for their splashdown. I know that soon, our news channels will go back to their usual programming, and there won’t be a live feed for me to go to where I get to watch four humans show us the best versions of themselves. Still, I know that I can’t wait to see them back on Earth, safe and sound. I also know that, going forward, I will fight tooth and nail to hold on to everything they taught me, and to explore all the questions that they have awakened in me. Most importantly, if there are ever days when that feels a little harder to do, I know that all I need to do at the end of them is go outside, look up at the sky, find a bright spot on the moon and say “Hi, Carroll.”

Vanessa is a writer raised in New York, now transmitting from Orlando. Semi-finalist in L. Ron Hubbard’s Writers of the Future Contest. Published in Pink Hydra and the Assisi Journal of Arts and Letters. Stargazer. Coffee lover. Made of stardust. (So are you.)