“To boldly go where no one has gone before…” — Captain Jean-Luc Picard
Tonight, as the engines of the Archimedes mission prepare to ignite, I find myself “thrusted” back into my childhood.
My father had a love for all things space that was infectious. He lived for the technology, the mystery of the unknown, and the sheer audacity of leaving the ground. I remember him recording the shuttle flights on VHS tapes, archiving history in our living room. He even put our family name on the official registry for a shuttle flight and a rover—so, in a way, a piece of us is already out there among the craters.
He used to joke that when his time came, he wanted his ashes put in a coffee can and sent straight to the Moon. It was so “him”—his two great loves, caffeine and the cosmos, combined into one hilarious final flight plan. That love of the future was passed down to me like a sacred inheritance.
People say history repeats itself, and in space flight, that’s a given. But the goal is to learn from it. With each launch, we are trying something different—adding more weight or stripping it back for speed, finding more thrust, or installing a new microchip that uses less energy. We are acknowledging the problems of the past and finding solutions. We are making up for the mistakes we’ve made by refining the “Blueprint” of how we reach the stars.
But we aren’t just upgrading the machines; we are upgrading the history of the people inside them.
I am so incredibly proud to see this crew. Having Victor Glover as the first person of color and Christina Koch as the first woman heading to the lunar surface is a massive, respectful step forward. It means we’ve learned that the “Unknown” belongs to everyone. It tells every child watching—whether they are in a big city or a small town—that the porch light is on for everyone.
I grew up a child of the stars. I was the girl on Tatooine, staring at the twin suns. I was on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise with Captain Picard. When I look at the wonders of this world—the mountains, the oceans, and the life right here—I am already in awe of what He created. I can’t even begin to imagine the majesty of what is waiting for us out there in the deep reaches of space, beyond what our eyes can see.
Sometimes, my life looks “small.” I don’t make a lot of money. I don’t have much family left. But when I look at those four brave souls—Wiseman, Glover, Koch, and Hansen—I am reminded that “small” is just a matter of perspective.
So, I choose to Live Long and Prosper. I choose to look for a friendship as loyal as Kirk and Spock. I choose to live life to the fullest, because you never know where the journey might take you. For four people today, it’s taking them back to the Moon. For me? It’s taking me to the keyboard.
We are all explorers in our own way.
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Today's pen is tomorrows pages 