SPACE

I really like space. Not that “empty space” type of space, but the space that makes us think of planets and stars. At some point in my life, I was literally in love with space. Looking back, I just could not help but wonder why this random pile of utter darkness with some little glittering stuff everywhere was something to worship. While searching for the answer of the question, I ended up finding something else: a painful truth about life.

The “discovery” all started with a very simple question: what does the word “space” mean to me? The question was not one of those philosophical questions we all ask ourselves one in a while when we feel that something is just wrong in our lives. To tell the truth, the question was originally meant to be nothing more than a tool to help me start the writing, just like a stimulus drug. After briefly brainstorming on a piece of paper with “SPACE” in the middle, I figured it was not enough. Jotting some random words would never get me started in writing something. Luckily I was at home that moment. I was bored and rummaging through some of the old stuff in my house did not seem like a bad idea then. Starting with the old picture books, I continued my search. Then out of nowhere, I spotted my good old blue notebook, standing straight on the shelf as if it was waiting for me to pull it out.

On the very first page of the notebook, I had written something on the lines of: “From now on I will record everything on this notebook, especially science and math.” The next couple of pages were a mixture of cheesy and useless facts that I supposedly was interested in at that time. One page had a diagram of the inner structure of the Sun accompanied by some words in terrible handwriting, explaining the drawing. Another page was fully devoted to the various types of space weapons I would be making in the future. Some of them even had names like “bazooka X,” “laser spear” and so on. Staring in wonder on the notes I had about my dreams and my epic future plans, it just came to me that the “space” I knew when I was young was so different from the “space” I perceive now.

It said specifically in my book that my dream was to build a space transformer. Everything I had in mind was somehow related to space; space to me was the prime source of all my creativity, imagination, and power. But after a few pages, I saw the notebook come to a sudden stop, as if my line of thought had been completely snapped of a dream. A few pages later, big, fancy words with full definitions and examples started to appear. No longer could I find the so called “blueprints” of my future weapons. The grand tales explaining in detail the secrets of space were too no longer there. I could no longer sense any trace the burning passion I once had. The simple truth was: I had grown up.

Growing up is not a big deal; it is part of our nature. But looking at myself grow up through this notebook made it seem all the more dramatic. Looking at my cheesy dreams collapse, and realizing that for all this time I had forgotten even of the existence of such a dream just made “growing up” seem plain sad.

The funny part is, I now know so much more about “space” than I ever knew in my life. Knowledge accumulated inside my brains for years, and now the size of what I have now and what I had before is incomparable. Yet all these moments I come across the word “space,” never do I find myself imagining aliens, or reminiscing my old dreams of building a giant space weapon. No matter how much I learn about space, the word seems to be shrinking every day. The word “space” is no longer the “space” it used to be.

And, to tell the truth, I kind of miss my old times. In my far future, I am pretty sure that space will be nothing but a simple word, no different any other word like “Earth.” I mean, how much could an ordinary 30year old person really possibly care about space?

But one fact is for sure: I will miss those days when space was my own world.

#kenlee #fiction