I’ve had my fair share of screw-ups. The kind I’d pack in bubble wrap and sneak into some astronaut’s suitcase. Then I’d keep my fingers crossed that said astronaut would toss it out somewhere in space. And my screw-ups would get sucked into some black hole. Never to be seen again. Happy ending right there. But it’s not like I’m done screwing up. So I’d probably need to send a package every other month.
Problem is, I don’t know any astronauts. And I don’t know anyone who does. And it’s not like I can just stroll into NASA and make some friends! It might help if one of them was my chum long before they became a floating genius. Wow. Fancy that! One of my girls (or boys) an astronaut! They’d have to have hit the books really hard to have made it to astronaut school. They’d have to be super smart…you know…like me. But they’d have to be a little, ok, a lot less liberal with their time than I was. Like that smarty pants I used to know. Let’s call her Molly. Molly is a good name for an astronaut, right?
So Molly hit the books really hard and impressed all the super geniuses at NASA. But the bond we forged over Mills & Boon novels remained unbroken. And that’s how I’d happen to be in her room, helping her pack for her mission to space. I’d consider telling her about my package. But she’s a stickler for the rules. She has to be. NASA does not tolerate tomfoolery. So I’d wait until she was in the bathroom, then I’d sneak it in with a note “I’m sorry love, please toss it in the biggest black hole you can find. Thanks gal!”
Then I’d carry on with bated breath until Apollo twenty-something safely launched, taking with it my screw-ups. Later that day, Molly would be rummaging for…I don’t know…a book and she’d find my bubble wrap package. She’d read my note and mutter something in the lines of “!!!!!” Then she’d wait for the right moment and toss that stinker. Somehow, I’d know the exact moment she tossed it. Because I’d feel a feather light blanket of bliss settle over me.
Wouldn’t that be nice!
Instead, I’m stuck with my lot of epic screw-ups. The little buggers are so active; they won’t let my memory grow cobwebs. I carry on with what needs doing, but I mull over them. My mistakes. And here’s the clincher – I just know that I’m only a bad decision away from yet another screw-up.
But who is to say that good decisions cannot end up in screw-up street too? Who is to say that my screw-ups aren’t little lights pointing me in the direction I should be heading?
My screw-ups aside;
Astronaut Jeanette Epps will be the first African American to board the International Space Station (ISS) as a crew member. She’ll only be the 13th woman to do so. This aerospace stuff might be Russian to me, but seriously, I am proud on so many levels.