A Farewell Letter to Missy

Since this is the happiest bit of this entire blog entry, I've left it at the top. I have a cat named Olivia now. She will never replace my Mouse, but its nice to hear the cat bell as she roams through the house, and she's setting up shop in her own litter corner of my heart. I plan to write her a letter in future as well, but tonight is for Missy.

I know its been a year, but I felt the need to write tonight. I had to say goodbye to my Mouse Cat (Of blog name fame) on Monday, March 8, 2010 at about 6pm. She had a bunch of fluid in her lungs, and we couldn't seem to improve the situation with oxygen and diuretics as a treatment. The vet told me afterwords that it was right side heart failure (which she said is very difficult to treat, and it was likely that if we had kept fighting, Mouse never would have recovered). In the end, we had to say goodbye and that's hurt me a lot. I felt like I wanted to write down all the special things she did for me, and honestly I don't know that I'll ever have them all down, but this is what I've written so far, and its a good, if incomplete description of her life, and what she meant to me.

March 20, 2010

Dear Missy,

It’s been about two weeks since we had to say goodbye. I hope you know that I love you and I miss you an awful lot. I’m writing this letter to you, to be honest, mostly so I can remember those special things you always did that made you my special little Mouse cat. I called you Missy Mystery at first, which kind of fit. There were a lot of mysteries that never were solved about you. I even called you Squeaker, before that, till I realized how loud you really were, (and what a lame name that was.) In the end, you were Missy Mouse. (Allais’s Missy, Mouse, Miss Mouse, Mau-Mouse, Fuzz brain, Loud Mouse, Trouble, Little One, Goofy-goose, Goofy-goo and Dum-Dum) I guess this is a letter to say how much I loved you, to remember all the reasons why, (and to try to figure out where you got so many silly names.)

I loved how you always used to greet me when I got home, you were always so loud, and so excited. Even that last night when we took you to the vet, and the very last night, when we said goodbye, You wanted to come to me, and you made sure and said “hello” in your vocal little way. You really were a loud Mouse, you know that right? I’m gonna miss that bit of Loud Mouse attitude. There’s nothing in the world quite like the way you greeted me, with a shout, and I love you for it. It was strange, but part of the ritual, so I also love this, but what was with “clawing” my shoes and my backpack? I kinda loved it, but you have to admit, you were being weird. It always tickled, especially those rare times you caught me in sandals or decided to “claw” my leg.

You had some other amazingly funny little habits too. You used to be so good about stretching out belly up, in all the most unlikely places. It was so funny to catch you belly up in the middle of the living room with your paws flipped forward and the goofiest little grin on your face. I loved to just watch you when you did that, just cause you were so silly.

I’m never going to forget how much you loved getting your water in strange ways either. It was hilarious to turn around in the shower and see you, front half soaked, trying to “catch” the shower water. It was nearly as funny when you would sit on the edge of the tub, and drink the water, or just hang out while I was in the bath, with your tail in the water. I never understood that about you… You didn’t want to get wet very badly, and yet, you didn’t seem to mind if it was on your terms. You also used to give me the nastiest looks if I wouldn’t run the tap for you to get a drink. Or else, after you took your “shower” you would wander between the shower curtains. My goofy goose.. You were so silly.

I always thought it was funny the way that you would play catch with me in the middle of the floor too. I’d roll the ball to you and you, like clockwork, would “toss” it back. (You didn’t have very good aim, though). And you would always get so angry if I stopped because we lost the ball. Not that you would get up after it, you lazy little thing. It was also funny how you chased cords though you drove me crazy if I was trying to work on something.

I liked how you used to turn and “butt” your head against me when I held you. I always felt so loved when you did that. It was special to me even in the beginning when we didn’t know each other very well.

Thanks for always making me laugh. You weren’t ever very good about tears though. You always would wander off if I was upset. It always exasperated me, but that was just part of who you were. You wanted an “upbeat” relationship, and by golly you were going to insist on it.

You were always such a troublesome thing about wanting to go out too. I remember more than a few trips out the door when I had to haul you back before I could be on my way. Your curiosity was boundless, (which led to you being underfoot more than once or twice.) If I remember right, you went and visited the neighbors once too. That wasn’t very nice, and was kind of an embarrassment for me. I wish you would have just stuck to the hallways. Speaking of the early days, do you remember when I was a dufus and got us locked out of the apartment at 2 in the morning? Alicia, Brandon and Alan were pissed. They had fun laughing about it later though. I know, I’m a goof too.

It was neat that you would stay fairly close in the yard so we could let you explore in the spring and summer. I always worried you were going to fall off that balcony since you refused to stay on this side of the railings, but it was nice to let you out here, at this apartment. Sorry the vest thing didn’t work out, I was just trying to protect you. I’m sorry it was too cold and nasty here the last few months we were together. If I would have known, I’d have let you out when it was at least a little nice. I remember how much you like to eat grass, I don’t understand, but I remember, and I think it’s pretty funny.

You were always so soft too. I never met a cat quite as soft and silky as you were. Your fur was a joy to stroke. You always did a good job of taking care of it. I never did have to give you a bath, which I have to admit was pretty great. I don’t think you would have liked it if it hadn’t been your idea to get wet (though I loved how you smelled a little bit like cinnamon and smoke when you were). Thanks for letting me tweak your tail, and rub your ears. I know it was odd, but I was just trying to show you my affection, and I was always so fascinated by that scar in your ear. I hope some day I can find out where that came from. It was always such a mystery to me.

I remember how you liked to rub against your brush when it was grooming time too, as if to say “hey let me just get that itch.. ahh there it is.” You loved that brush that got all that dead fur out of your coat too, which I have to admit was kind of nice for me too. I’m sorry I didn’t brush you more.

While I’m apologizing, I’d like to say I’m sorry about the medicine, but I couldn’t help it. Your tummy would get so upset, and cause an awful lot of problems if we didn’t give it to you every night. I know you didn’t like it, (though once again, it was funny the way you would hold your mouth shut and turn your head away every time I tried to give it to you). I’m also sorry that you didn’t get to know my friends very well. That was a little your fault too you know. You know they couldn’t see that you were usually just sitting out of reach waiting for attention. They didn’t realize that you were strangely, a bit reserved like that. Finally, I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner. I don’t know if it would have made a difference, but I’m sorry you were so tired in the end. That’s why I finally made the decision I did for you. I would have kept you with me if I could have. It was obvious that you were tired, you wouldn’t have been so good for the vet if you hadn’t been. Remember how nasty you would get with them? It was almost funny, when we weren’t at the vet, though when we were, you were a terror. I’m sorry about that too, I have a feeling that you wouldn’t have minded them so much if I hadn’t had you declawed. If it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again to any other kitties. I’m sorry that you probably didn’t feel very well a lot of the time. You were awfully good about it. I tried to do the best I could to keep you healthy and happy. (I know that “healthy” and “happy” were two different things when the vet was involved, but what could I do?) I hope your eyes weren’t uncomfortable, and I hope I at least helped with your tummy. Despite all that, thanks for always being so good about crawling into your carrier. I was always surprised that I didn’t have to fight with you to get you to go in there, even though we usually were going somewhere you didn’t want to be.

Thanks for putting up with all the moves, and thanks for the laughs. Thank you for being gentle to Aydyn and Amanda and all of the other little ones that came to visit us. I know a lot of other cats would have hidden, or even been nasty. I’m so proud of you for that. Thanks for handling the guide dogs pretty well too, even when they ate your food. I’m never going to forget how you “put Jockey in his place”. I still want to know what you did there. I’ve never seen a cat and a dog in a staring contest before or since then. Nor have I seen a dog that gave in so readily to a cat. It was pretty cool of you to get along with Marc too, even though he called you “Stupid” and teased you. I’m sorry that you and mom never got real close, though I’m glad that you were pretty good friends and that you would have been a better friend to her if she’d wanted it. Thanks for sitting in my lap on cold nights when I was reading too. It was great to see that you trusted me enough to fall asleep there.

I almost forgot to mention this, but thanks for always wanting to be near by, even if you were doing your own thing. It was nice to see you in the chair next to me, or napping on the couch, or the end of the bed while I was working on things. It was even nice, if a bit concerning and frustrating how you wanted to hang out in the kitchen with me (right under foot). I always laugh when I think of how you always looked in the fridge like there was something in there for you even though you wouldn’t touch human food. (Fuzz brain, you were a screwball, end of story.)
It was also pretty cool that you wanted to sleep on the “mom” blanket, even though that meant we fought for that part of the bed every night. By the way, it was not necessary for you to always try to take up the entire queen sized bed. Livvy’s doing just fine curling up in a much smaller part of it. I’m curious to see how she’ll handle me making the bed considering how you always insisted on helping by lying in the middle of it, and not even moving if I covered you up.

I hope you understand that I’m not replacing you with Olivia. I loved you too much, and there’s no other kitty in the world like you were. I just needed a friend, and Livvy needed a friend, and well, I figured we could comfort each other. You wouldn’t have liked her, but it’s not her fault, she’s very sweet, you just never did get on with other cats. I wish you could have. You always seemed a little lonely to me. Maybe when we all meet on the other side you’ll be a little more understanding of my other kitty friends. (I don’t know if we will, but I have to hope so, I can’t imagine heaven without you there to greet me, I know that sounds strange, but there it is.) If you are in heaven, do me a favor and try to make friends with Tortuga, Snickers, Whiskers, and Dolly. I don’t want to have to sort it all out when I get there, and you guys have time. You may as well make up with Shadow too. Alicia and I will be spending time together there, so it’d be pretty cool if you were decent to her cat.

It’s awfully quiet here without you. Even though I’ve got little Olivia to keep me company, it’s not the same to come home without your very vocal greeting. I’m gonna miss your purr, it was so unique, and I’m going to miss your soft fur, and your shouting. Know that no matter who else comes and shares my home, you will always be my beloved Mau-Mouse.

Cuddles and head-butts,

Amy

P.S. Oh, and you totally rocked that pink leopard print collar.



Missy - My fuzziest friend from January 2006 - March 8, 2010. Goodbye Mau-Mouse, you will be missed.

Music Moves Me…

That song is so appropriate… How many times have we all said that? A break up… a romance… a memory… a prayer… All seem to float by on the wings of a song. Music is the glue that binds our presents and futures to our pasts. It helps to define our understanding of the world. The words of a song can bring real change. A song, even one I have heard hundreds of times, can bring new meaning to a situation. They can devastate you when you realize that you've been wrong, exhilarate you when they match your current joy, and bring a sad bit of comfort to a "Beautiful Goodbye".

Incidentally, I listened to "Beautiful Goodbye" by Jennifer Hanson about 6 times after I broke up with a good friend. It actually felt right, which is twisted, but true. We weren't meant to be more than friends, and it was sad, but… very very right. Somehow, this song helped me say goodbye to that part of us without real devastation. It was sad, and sweet and fit the situation exactly. There were no angry words, but there was nothing to cling to anymore, and it was best to let each other go. The thing that made this song so right is that it doesn't place blame, there's none to place. It doesn't wish for more, instead it is a way to be thankful for what we had, and for that I will always love it. It reflected who I was, and how I felt that day. Not truly happy, but not truly sad it is a fitting tribute to all that I and my friend had. (As an aside.. I couldn't find a copy of this song's actual music video, so somebody's mashup will have to do, but it does have a decent clean copy of the song, so it's what you get tonight. )

Music is woven throughout our relationships. We always hear about "our song" in movies, books and even real life, and there is a reason… Music is magical. It can carry us to the day we met, or the day we first kissed. It can send us on a journey of the soul, back to the days of "first love", all with the simple unfolding of the melody. A few chords, a couple choice words, are all it takes to draw the memory, make it ours, and new again. The joy of love is difficult to express. Poets, actors, and artists have all brought forth stunning efforts in the defense and explanation of love, but a song is the only medium I have found that can catch the essence of an individual and unique romance. Somehow the simplicity of a song allows people to surround and infuse it with their own feelings, their own hearts. It makes the love immortal, and on some level it makes the song immortal.

"The Song Remembers When" by Trisha Yearwood is a fitting tribute to this role that music plays in our lives, so since I haven't yet found that "our song" with someone, I will share this masterpiece with you instead. (Or at least I would have if the idiot record company would have let me embed the video. The link will take you there though).

Speaking of remembering… do you remember? And that song was playing?.. or We sang that! Songs, even those that are utterly unrelated can be profound reminders of those moments "we will never forget". "I Hope You Dance," played the year I graduated high school. Admittedly, it is the sort of sappy thing you are supposed to remember when it comes to graduation, but it doesn't change the impact it has when I hear it. It still reminds me of the thrill and hope of going to college, moving on, becoming a woman (though to be honest, most days I wonder if I ever really hit that milestone.. I think I am still trying to avoid it, truly.) Or perhaps my memories float to my senior prom with Wes, where the last dance was.. I kid you not.. "American Pie". "Sweet Home Alabama" (sorry, best copy I could find on YouTube) will always be "Sweet Home Maji Modo" (Not sure of the spelling, and never got further than changing that line.. but…) We sang it as we drove into the yard of the first house we stayed in, in the Kenyan "Bush" out with the villagers. "I Can Only Imagine" will forever draw another Kenyan picture to my mind's eye.. it was a fare well dinner in that same village. We cooked, ate goat, shared, prayed and sang with the villagers who had welcomed us so freely into their homes and lives. "So Much Cooler Online," so much fun hanging out at RyanO's house while he DJ'd his internet radio show, "Swingin' Doors". And I still "Cupid Shuffle" every time I turn "to the left" or "to the right" with any of the NABS folks. "Pussycat" has become Missy's personal theme, (with minor alterations)… "Missy cat Missy cat, I love you… Yes I do!" "Manamana" is the car trip song for watching Steve graduate from basic training… Marc and I bonded over a song called "I Hope You Die," by the Bloodhound Gang (It is an awful song, but he played it near constantly, I'm always going to remember it as one of his, and it had a good beat for Audiosurf, which is a great game, so be nice. Also, I'm not really comfortable with this one, so I am not linking to it.. you want it... you find it. I can't help that it reminds me of Marc... and no I don't share the sentiment.. meanies.). So you can see, there are too many to choose, so you won't find them all embedded on my blog here, and it isn't even half my list… but I know you have a list like this too. We all do, and it helps to make us who we are. Most of these memories wouldn't be the same without these songs, and most of these songs would be forgettable enough without these memories, but together? They build a personal soundtrack. They become a musical tribute to who we were, we are, and who we may become.

Finally, I can't count for you the number of times I have been brought to my knees in prayer, and occasionally tears because of a song.. All I can say is that music can be a truly spiritual experience. I have seen it used to teach me many lessons about my relationship with God, and I expect it will be used to teach me many… many more, though there are songs that always stand out as especially relevant, no matter where I stand, and "Canyon Prayer" by Jessi Alexander is certainly one of those songs for me. The first time I heard it… balled like a baby. All right, you people that know me well know that I didn't ball, I don't really cry when stuff hits that deep. I just can't cry, when it really matters… well sometimes, but I usually can't. Anyway, that is not the point of this blog post. I have found many songs that bring me closer to my Savior. They often teach me more than I could have learned from any sermon. I think sometimes the simplicity of music works in its favor when it comes to matters of the spirit. It has the chance to bring one point across in fairly simple and profoundly powerful terms. It doesn't have to be weighed down by argument or rhetoric. It is almost pure emotion. It gives the voice to the deepest longings of the heart. The desire to love, serve, and obey is somehow easier for me to understand when it is put to music. The gift of Jesus' sacrifice is often more real to my soul when it is sung.. He calls us to sing, to praise him with instruments and voice, I have to believe this is why. He loves music as we do, and I believe He knows, better than any how powerful a song can be. This song is powerful for me, and often draws me up short, when I don't wish to go where I ought to be… It reminds me that my loyalties really must belong to Him before all others.

Can't embed this one either.. so "Canyon Prayer."

Music can help us to say goodbye, love a little more deeply, supply a soundtrack to our days, and bring us closer to that we hold most dear. It is profound in its simplicity, and powerfully reminds us of all we are, and long to be. It makes us laugh, and cry, dance, and strive, but most important, it in large part, makes us who we are. I hope that learning a bit about the music that has shaped me will bring you back to your songs "That Remember When".

Bygone Places… Bygone Days: Kenya

Although I didn't officially "dedicate" the last Bygone Places entry, in many ways it was tied to a particular group of friends. This one is not. I've sadly lost touch with almost everyone from this experience, and it is something I now regret. These posts were intended to allow me to share places and times that changed me, but looking back now, this episode may be a record of regrets. How I should have changed, what I should and could have taken from this experience. Do not mistake me, I was changed and did grow from my time in Kenya, but I think I allowed much of that growth to slip away.

I am unsettled as I write this, because I know the kind of experience this was, I know at least a little of how it could and should have shaped me, and I know that where I now stand is not really where I should be. This is an introspective of a deeper more personal nature than that of Space Camp. This post is directly tied to the purpose for my time in Kenya, my Christian faith. Someday, I hope to write a more normal experiential blog about what happened in Kenya, and some of the more mundane things I learned, but truly, I feel that this needs to be written, and it is what I have to say tonight.

I truly say this with all my heart: My God, what have I done? I have wasted such a precious gift. I've lost so much of what you taught me in that beautiful place. I have willingly given up the treasure you offered me in the African sun, for the dust and day to day cares of the here and now.

For my readers' sake, I really should go back and explain a few things. I am a Christian, and have on one level, always believed in Christ. On another level though, I believed, but I hadn't really done anything with that belief. It is very much like the difference of claiming to be a Cubs fan though you never actually watch them, and actually attending every game, standing up for them in bars, and shunning all of their foes as your own, though of course on a much deeper, more personal level. There is of course no comparison between faith and baseball, but it was the only thing I could say to at least offer an explanation of what I mean when I say that I was, and yet, was not truly a believer all my life. I truly was changed by Him one June evening, (more accurately, extremely early morning) in 1997. It shaped many of my decisions as a late adolescent, including the college I later chose to attend, and the major I eventually chose. To make a long story short, (though I fully intend to later make a short story long on this point) I willingly offered my life and being to Christ, as Savior and Lord. He challenged me, pushed me to grow, and after many, many other adventures, led me to Kenya.

The country was semi-arid and mountainous, much like Colorado actually. The people were friendly and enjoyed our company. We taught in villages, and churches about Christianity and AIDS. We were taught about trusting in God for everything, because we couldn't trust ourselves. That lesson was much more real in a country where we didn't know the language of many of the inhabitants, vehicles and other equipment were so patched and ragged that it was truly a gift from Him to have them function, and where every place we went, we could see His glory in landscape and beast, alike.

I knew that our work could never succeed without His hand and blessing upon it. It was as much a fact as that the sun came up in the east, or that our Maasai hosts would invite us to drink Chai with them, or occasionally, sour milk. It was a new place of submission and trust. One I have never really allowed myself while I lived here. There have been fleeting moments of it, like when I know He has a task for me, and I truly see how unable I am to complete it without His wisdom and aid. I knew while I was in Kenya that I belonged utterly to God, and I was His beloved child. I knew that with His approval and help, I could change the world in which I lived. I might even, glory of glories, be used to help another come to know Him as their Savior and Lord. I had never known such peace, and such wonder. I haven't known them since either.

This is where the whole thing seems to fall apart to be honest. I came back, and for a time, wanted to continue to serve Christ here, until He again called me to share His love with others... elsewhere. I was eager, and I was willing to follow where I believed that He called, but slowly those feelings began to fade. Each day has been more about the things of here and now: paying bills, getting a degree, getting a job, getting a different degree so I can get a better job, so I can pay bills… For a time, I was attending a good church last year, and He began again, to remind me of all that it means to follow Him. (If you are in the Omaha area, I would highly recommend that you visit Coram Deo, by the way.) I was there long enough to long to return to the days where I tried to fully submit to Him, though I was still very bad about actually doing so. Then I moved, and honestly I am afraid to go back. It's hard to follow Him. I will say with all of my being that it is the best and fullest life I could lead, but it is not easy, and there are times that it will hurt, terribly, and I have allowed myself to be afraid, and not follow where He leads, and not listen to His call. I need to find a church where I can actively serve. I have to go to Him, and submit. It's the only way I will truly feel complete.

Will I do it? I don't know, I doubt that I ever fully will. I think it is human nature to wrestle with God, and the world for control, but I hope, and I pray… and perhaps this is the first step… that I will not forget all that I learned while I walked with God in Kenya. I know I don't want to forget any more, perhaps with His mercy, and help, I will have the strength to again say, I am weak, Father, and I know that my only strength lies in You. Take me and shape me so that I may do the most good possible in Your world. Rule me and teach me to love and trust only You.

Bygone Places… Bygone Days: Space Camp

I spent most of this afternoon talking with my friends Alicia, Ryan and Wes. As great change is expected for one of them, we talked about how all of us have felt that Denver is like home more so than any other place we have lived. It left me thinking about special places. Places that felt like home, or where I learned about myself. Places I grew, or simply found to make me happy. In honor of those memories, I am starting a blogging mini-series which attempts to list where, when and why I found such great change in such unique places. To begin, we'll start with a pivotal moment in my young life, Space Camp.

September 1996 – Space Camp in Huntsville Alabama – I was young, I was dumb, but I say now, and with all my heart, I was changed. I lived in a small town since the fourth grade, and wasn't well accepted by my classmates. I was different in a lot of ways and it affected my social standing. I had grown to believe that I wasn't really worthy of friendship and that it wasn't really worth looking for. I went to Space Camp because I could, really. There was a special week for blind and visually impaired students, and since it was paid for through a special grant, how could I refuse the opportunity. No kid's going to turn down Space Camp. I was giddy when we arrived at the Omaha airport. I couldn't wait to start. I nearly ran to my group when we arrived and the luggage had been checked. It would be the first time I would fly, and although I didn't know it, the first time, as a young adult that I would know I had friends. There were a couple of guys that I hung out with at the summer school program held at the Nebraska School for the Visually Handicapped (The State's name for it, not mine. I hate that word.) so I went looking for them when I arrived. (One of those guys was Wes, by the way.) When I found them, they were talking to a new girl, someone none of us had met before, her name was Alicia. (and still is, I might add.) Long story short, in the first minutes, before we even left the airport, or made it through security, I was with three friends who would shape the majority of my high school years, two of whom are still as close as family. Wes had already been through Space Academy level One, and was now preparing to attend an advanced program, so we didn't get to spend much time with him that week, but we enjoyed one another's company (in the airports) until we all arrived in Huntsville, anyhow.

Due to an Atlanta thunderstorm, I got the chance to spend a few hours with Alicia, Brent, Wes, and several others from our combined teams. We talked and learned about each other the way high school kids do. We were loud, we were giddy, and we all babbled. There were contests to see who could use a Braille 'n Speak fastest (Alicia or Wes), overpriced greasy pizza, and fears that we might be trapped in Atlanta. Other than the concern about not reaching our destination, it was a blast. I was high on life and the fact that we had actually been on a plane in a thunderstorm, and I seemed to have people around me who cared about me. It was better than I could have imagined.

When we reached Huntsville later that evening, the teams were separated, welcomed, and briefed. We were reminded of all the rules that come with teen camps… No public displays of affection… Listen to your mentors.. No public displays of affection…Follow all posted rules.. No public displays of affection… you get the idea. After the briefing, we were sent to settle in. The rooms housed at least four students at a time, in a building that was intended to look like a futuristic space station, though honestly it looked more like two rolls of paper towel stacked on top of one another to me. Alicia and I were paired with a pair of teen witches, nasty, snotty, popular girls, who hated me. I don't mean to sound like I am pitying myself, it really was hatred. I don't know why to this day, but its true. They and their friends ridiculed and otherwise snubbed me, which all in all I was used to. What I wasn't used to though, was having friends who stuck up for me, and Alicia and Brent did. The three of us were inseparable that week. We were a team within a team. We thrilled in our successes and commiserated over our losses together. I know this doesn't sound like much, but for me, it was like a new world had opened out before us.

There was so much that happened that week I could never recount it all, but I should at least mention the simulated Shuttle Missions. We, like everyone else, hoped to be on the shuttle, and somehow, by a miracle, or cruel turn of fate, I was the Shuttle Commander for our first flight. I don't actually remember where Alicia or Brent were stationed, but I know that I felt a burden of leadership that I had never before experienced. We were sent into orbit and went through the mission with a handful of different points of terror and frustration, then it was time to land. I don't really remember quite what happened, or what specifically went wrong, but when we arrived back "on earth" there were no survivors in the shuttle, and I knew at the time with all my heart, that it was my fault. (I doubt that assertion now, but at the time, I knew it had to be true.) It was a blow, and I felt like the penultimate failure, but my friends were there. We were bummed, certainly, but they stood with me.

The second mission was a different story. Once again, we all hoped for shuttle positions, and somehow, by a true and unadulterated miracle, we all had them, at least if I remember correctly. (Alicia can correct me if I am wrong on that point). We were stationed in different places, I was a mission specialist, which meant that I did "experiments" in the cargo area lab while they were more actively involved in the flying of the ship, but that is hardly the point. I honestly have no idea whether or not the shuttle's crew were half crazed during that mission, or not, all I remember is that my part of the mission went well, and that in preparing to land, we discovered that the hatch between the lab and the rest of the shuttle were open. It was sure to be another disaster, but Brent "risked his life" to unstrap his harness and close the hatch. We survived, and the mission was a success. It was a moment of triumph for us all, and I think that on some level we all savored that victory as something more than just a simulated shuttle mission.

There were certainly other memorable occurrences that week. We simulated the moon walk, we rode the multi-access machine, (the one that is in all the advertisements for Space Camp) we broke rules, though only minor ones, and we had numerous other team building events, lectures, video presentations and the like. I remember talking about our dreams, our hopes and our fears. None of us are where we expected to be, but because of this experience, we all have memories, and I know that I am worthy. Worthy to succeed, worthy to be proud of who I am, and most important to that lost, lonely girl that I was, worthy to have friends.