Discovery

He woke me out of a confusing dream, the kind that happens in the soft light between night and waking. "The shuttle is landing!" he exclaimed, trying to jostle me out of the darkness. "What? Oh, yay" I mumbled as I rubbed the scratchy signs of slumber from eyes glued shut. I reached for my glasses so I could witness the Return to Earth of the Return to Space flight. All I could see was a white blob on a black screen. Without the sound turned on, one would think there was something wrong with the TV. I tried to sit up, but a beagle was lying on my legs, so I half twisted to get a better view of the Blob. Charles Gibson was narrating over the squabble from Mission Control. Beep-Beep-left at 80 degrees to horizontal-Roger That-Beep-Beep, I could hear between Charlie's babbling. God I wish he would just shut up so we could hear Eileen Collins talk to Capcom Ken Ham, I thought. They were going 17,000 miles per hour… 15,400… 14,000…7,400. She banked to the left to slow down the speed. What a dream. This amazing woman was speaking softly into the radio, which was projecting into my bedroom a steady sense of calm. We watched in silence, interrupted by giggles of joy, as the TV switched between views of the incoming shuttle and the onboard camera showing what she was seeing. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she touched down at Edwards, deployed her chutes, slowed to a halt, and was home. I let out a deep breath. I had no idea how long I'd been holding it.

When I was younger, I dreamed of being an astronaut. I wanted so bad to be in Space. I wanted to fly. I fantasized about being a fighter pilot. I grew up outside of an Air Force Base, with A-10s flying over my house on take off and landing. From time to time, an F-16 would visit. You got used to the noise. Now that I've moved away, when I visit my parents I can't believe how loud they are when they rumble overhead. I flew a plane once, when I was about 11, no, maybe 12. We took off from the private area of the airport in a twin engine Cessna. I was allowed to fly for about a half hour, then we landed. It was amazing. Addicting.

But math and science were not my strong suits. And teachers who had no business teaching young children did their best to discourage me from my dream. I suppose if I had a stronger sense of purpose I would not have let anything stop me. By the time I reached high school, I developed a non-violent hippie outlook on life and wouldn't have dreamed of joining the military. I had enormous respect and awe of those who did. But I didn't want them to die, not for me. My "peace club" drove to Nevada one time to protest nuclear testing. Yeah, I was one of those people. We lived in a commune for the weekend. Sang songs by the fire at night, trucked on over to the "line" to say our bit during the day. Some people volunteered to be arrested. Not me. I was too chicken shit. I was 15. Dumb enough to do this, but smart enough not to go too far. This was at the tail end of the Cold War, and we were drunk with thoughts of saving the world.

For the past few days I've thought of Discovery and Eileen Collins, what she means to me, to America, to the world. I've thought of the risks, the chances and the dedication that Commander Collins put into her dream. She had to have faced the meanest naysayers in the pursuit of it all. Math and science education for women/girls is horribly lacking to this day, but when I was growing up it was worse. I had to be nearly non-existent for her. I think about her and the risks she took to command a space shuttle. On the first return to flight after a disaster, no less. I can think of no other phrase other than, damn, the balls on that woman!

Does she know that she is inspiring a generation of girls to follow in her footsteps? Does she know that she is, through her very actions, encouraging women all over the world to wish on a star, take risks and follow our dreams? I think about the risks that I've taken in the past year and it astounds me. I'm not flying a shuttle mission, but it is my own mission into the Unknown. It is scary. It is exciting. It is awe-inspiring, even in myself. I have to step back and look at what I've done to have the guts to go forward. Some days I can't make myself keep going. I just don't have it in me that day.

But then another day comes, and another client calls, or a friend refers me to a new opportunity... and something amazing happens. I bank left 80 degrees to the horizontal, and my perspective shifts. I'm reminded of the little girl that dared to dream big, take risks and seek out adventure. She won't be held back any longer.