Gillian,
I’ll spare you the insincere greeting as I look out my window at the tiny Earth in the distance. Hello just doesn’t seem to cut it when you’re 384,000 km away. I know I haven’t written since leaving so suddenly eight weeks ago, but I figured I’d let you know that I was still alive. Yet, I guess that’s only relevant if you have the courage to open this letter. Who knows, after everything that has happened, I have this image of you just burning anything arriving by post with my name on it.
I don’t blame you.
Isn’t it funny how guilt seems to follow you no matter where you go? There is something to being raised “the good little Catholic girl”. All that self doubt rears its ugly head when you’re all alone, doesn’t it? I thought I’d accomplish something by signing up for the SMC, but it looks like this little fish has just found herself in an even bigger pond than the one she left.
I do miss you.
A lot.
I never thought I’d be the one who’d get homesick, but as I sit here looking back at what used to be my home, I am horribly forlorn. You may find this funny, but I miss all the green. When everything is replaced with fabricated metal, and you’ve been living in a tin can for 8 weeks, you tend to miss the opportunity to take in some fresh air. I’d give anything to walk in the rain again.
The one thing I find terribly ironic in this new life is that I’m surrounded by newly trained soldiers and although we’ve been taught the ‘benefit’ to being one unit, no one will really know the real me. I’ll watch their backs as they go rushing head first into combat, but I can’t say that when I’m saluting a fallen comrade, that I knew anything about him or her.
Do they still have that place in D.C? The tomb of the unknown soldier? With the rush to defend the planet against the Rak’lan, I fear we will become only the statistic that everyone against the agenda throws out as a deterrent. Perhaps they’ll need to build another memorial to remind everyone that we’re all still human.
I’ve only a few moments before I receive orders. Jack Daniels has been keeping me company in the vast blackness of space and although he’s nothing like the smooth and familiar companionship of Cooleys, it’s nice to know that even this far from home, they still have the good stuff. It makes the first weightless steps in a terribly heavy environment that much easier to bear.
Enjoy the green while you still have it.
Shannon.
Tags: 5500 words, The O'Leary Letters
