The moon

I sent my sister in Illinois an e-mail last week but haven’t hear back from her, so this is what I sent:

E-mail 1:

Its been five days since I was stranded,  alone, on one of the far moons…

E-mail 2:

It seems that no one heard my distress call as my shuttlecraft crashed into a deserted area of an unknown Moon. So far there’s no signs of life and I am beginning to feel the desperation of knowing that I, alone, am responsible for my survival, yet I may not have the tools to sustain it. With the realization that no one may know what has occurred to me. My mission was a simple one, I was to fly around the moons doing general reconnaissance. This was meant to be one of my final missions, one of the most simple, a sort of farewell flight. My time in Star Fleet was coming to an end after decades of service. I was finally to have the time with my family that I had missed. Possibly I would get to enjoy my grandchildren more than my children since I would finally be home. Now, however, it seems that I would also be missing this chapter in my family’s life. The desolation was creeping in, attempting to take hold but I know that I must hold on to hope because I don’t want to die here alone. Yet I feel I should compose this final farewell in case I am not found in time.

Surely my family was all that I had lived for, fought for, sacrificed for, yet here, in these final years, I will again  be absent from their daily lives. It is with great sorrow that I look at the time wasted and realize the best years are indeed behind me. All of those missed games, plays,  family meals, missed fighting for what I thought was a greater cause, and yet, I now see that the greater cause was in the rearing of my own family.

And so these latter days, stranded on this Moon, will be spent living over and over those things that I missed while I was in the Stars. Dear ones, do not look on me with anger or hatred for truly I loved you the most despite though choosing to be so far away from you. May this find you well and happy. Signing off, and hopefully not forever, your Dearest Mother, Captain (Retired) Amallia Vasper

And that’s what happens when I’m bored and waiting.

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