Fly Me To The Moon

I gazed at the sunset just before the sun dipped into the horizon. The vivid pink and orange of the evening danced across the sky while crickets and frogs chirped in the creekbed nearby. Cows mooed in the distance, the soft summer breeze blew along the porch disturbing the wind chimes and making them tinkle together. I sat on my porch rocking chair drinking in the summer evening, letting the warm breeze caress my face. In the background, a radio crackled with static as it played oldies… music from my parents’ and grandparents’ childhood. The opening lines of “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. Beth and my mother's favorite song.

On the table next to me sat a glass of lemonade. The cool liquid formed beads of condensation on the glass, slowly trickling down to the table to form a ring of moisture. A plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies lays next to the glass. The sweet aroma wafting in the breeze as steam gently rises from the plate. A package sat on the table as well. A small brown parcel wrapped tightly with twine. Written on the package in delicate cursive strokes were the words "Love, Mom". I smiled remembering my childhood. My parents taking our family camping, my mother baking fresh cookies, and smacking my father's hand away when he tried to sneak one, my mother introducing me to Beth. My mind flashed to Beth. Images of us playing astronauts and aliens in the backyard, sneaking out late at night to watch meteor showers, watching the rocket launches from our backyard, that first innocent kiss under the moon. It all came flooding back to me at once as I sat there quietly humming along with the radio.

The moon was rising, forever chasing the tail of the sun but never quite catching up. In the dark portion of the moon, I saw it. Millions of sparkling lights. Amongst the shining stars of the night sky shone Earth's proudest achievement to date. The great lunar cities of Apollo and Artemis. The twin cities, named in memory of humanity's first missions to the lunar surface. They are a shining beacon of hope and promise in the night. They provided wonder and awe to all who gaze upon them. They inspire the idea of a better life. But for me, they only brought longing and thoughts of regret. Beth was up there.

Everyone expected me and Beth to get married but as life so often does, our paths diverged. Beth wanted to homestead on Artemis, land was cheap and companies wanted it developed. All you had to do was come up with $20,000. $20,000 to secure a seat on the rocket, buy a decent amount of land to start yourself off, and all the essentials that come with lunar homesteading. Beth immediately jumped on the opportunity. I followed right alongside her. We were so excited to go and start our lives up there but then a month before departure from Earth it happened. my father got into a fatal car crash on his way home from work. With my father now dead my mother had nobody to take care of her. So I did what any good son would do, I took care of her. I told Beth to go along without me, she was heartbroken but understanding. She almost canceled everything to stay with me but I urged her to go and live her dreams. Beth left and I stayed. We still kept in touch and often, but I longed for more. I wanted to hold her again and breathe her in.

Years passed and I grew older. I worked for an IT company that I hated to take care of my mother and myself. I loathed that job but it paid the bills and it had benefits that I needed. I wasn't able to save much of any money but more so lived paycheck to paycheck but we survived. My mother was devastated at the loss of my father but she soldiered on. I urged Beth to find someone else to move on with her life and have a family. She tried several times but according to her nobody ever felt right so she gave up. She set up a nice home and life on Artemis but she was alone. Life continued for me until one day my mother was at a routine yearly health checkup when she found that she had breast cancer. The doctor with a somber look in his eyes told us we could try chemo but it was too far spread for it to be very effective. The facts were laid on the table, my mother only had at most 6 to 7 months to live. My mother didn't want to try chemotherapy, she wanted to just die in peace surrounded by her family and go on to be with my father again. Weeks and then months passed like a blink of an eye. Final Preparations were made and my mother gradually became weaker and weaker, withering away before my eyes. By the end, she needed a steady drip of morphine just to stay coherent and not pass out from the pain. Despite all this, she remained happy and put on a good face.

The final days came. Family and loved ones gathered to say one final goodbye to my mother. She specifically asked to talk to me alone for a while. Everyone else cleared out of the room until it was just us. She just looked at me for a good long while with a tender loving look in her eyes. Finally, she spoke. She told me she loved me and she was forever grateful for all I had done for her over the past few years. I had stood up to the occasion to take care of her, I had worked a job I hated, gave up an adventure of a lifetime, and a love of a lifetime, all to take care of my mother. I smiled and with tears in my eyes, I said I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant she was happy and taken care of. She said she knew I would and she appreciated it. She looked at me smiling weakly and said “I won't be here much longer. What will you do when I'm gone?" I shrugged and said I guess I'll just continue along how I had been. She looked at me with a stern look and told me that wasn't living, that was surviving, and if I did that she would come back and haunt my ass. I laughed long and hard and asked what she thought living was. She replied, “living is being with the one you love the most.” I smiled back and said, “well the one I love is orbiting us right now a million miles away.” She smiled again and said, “love always finds a way.” She reached over to her nightstand and opened the top drawer. With some effort, she pulled a small brown parcel wrapped tightly with twine. She closed the drawer and handed it to me. “When I’m gone… I want you to open this, think of it as a final present from me and your father, I know he would want you to have this.: I took the package gingerly and held it with respect and reverence. I started crying and fell into her arms hugging her not wanting her to go. We sat that way for an hour. Finally, I went to bed. When I woke up the next morning she had passed away in her sleep. We had the funeral a couple of days later. It was bittersweet, for one she was finally laid to rest with my father but I also was utterly alone. I had no siblings and I was never close with my extended family. I now owned my parent’s house and everything in it. My mother left it to me in her will. I told Beth about my mom the day after the funeral. She cried, she loved my mom so much and my mother loved her like a daughter. I wanted to climb through the screen and hold her. I missed Beth...I missed my parents. I never felt so alone.

So there I was sitting on the porch gazing up at the moon, at Beth. The brown parcel was sitting on the table next to me. My hands trembled, afraid to see the last gift from my parents. I picked it up and gently, slowly, untied the brown rough twine. I peeled the twine off and pulled the brown paper away to reveal a small black notebook. As I opened the book I saw a note written on the inside cover. The familiar thin cursive strokes of my mother. The note said

"My dear son, If you're reading this, that means I’ve already passed on. I love you always, you're my most cherished creation. Don't waste your life, live it, love it, have your adventure. Write it down in this book so you don't forget. Go to her, go to Beth. She needs you just as much as you need her. I've never seen two people more perfect for each other. Love always finds a way. I can't wait to read your story, Mom."

My tears dotted the pages. I flipped through the book, every page held several hundred dollar bills. I carefully extracted them and counted them. $20,000. Just enough to get to my Beth. My body doubled over, where tears had stained my cheeks and sobs had wracked my body, like a churning storm tossing me from side to side, it was suddenly replaced with elation and laughter. I looked up at the moon in elation and wonder. The Radio continued to sing, and in sheer elation, I sang with it. “Fly Me to the Moon, let me play among the stars. Let me know what love is like on Jupiter and Mars.” I didn’t care who heard me all I cared about was her. I would soon be with her. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I beamed up at the moon. I said in barely a whisper “I’ll be there soon Beth, I’ll be flying there soon.”