30
I don’t quite remember my Leap but it felt like ages ago. I only recall seeing the Ringed Planet directly ahead of me, suspended in black velvet among the stars as I hatched from my casing and pushed my way out. I remember feeling the pit in my stomach when I first jumped out of my casing, not sure if I would survive. I have since been journeying through the galaxy trying to find the best fit for permanent landing, but nowhere seemed quite right yet.
Many of my hatch mates had already found their landings. Some chose based on climate while others chose based on the communities that were there. Some had landed on planets, some on stars, and some even on asteroids. The first landing I ever tried to call home was on the Red Planet. It had the most resources and landmarks of any of the landings in the galaxy. The people weren’t the friendliest but I could usually fit in anywhere. And I did for years. I learned their language, their mannerisms, and their hobbies. I went to the most prestigious schools and consistently performed at the top of my class. One summer I sat at home eating iced cream and knew something didn’t feel quite right. As familiar as the Red Planet had become, I knew it wasn’t home. That day I packed my things and started my journey again in search of another landing to call home.
The second landing I tried was Canopus. I was excited to live on a star even though those on the Red Planet often looked down on it. The culture was vibrant, the people were lively, and the community was close-knit. I felt welcomed and confident, quickly learning their language, their mannerisms, and their hobbies. Another summer came around and I sat at home eating iced cream, knowing something didn’t feel quite right. As dear as Canopus had become, I knew it wasn’t home. Once again, I packed my things and re-embarked on my journey in search of another landing to call home.
They always say third time’s a charm, and I hoped that would be the case on my third landing, Pallas. Asteroid life was exhilarating. It was fast-paced, fun, and intoxicating. People moved in frequently and spent time together often. I felt like I was living life for the first time, engulfed in the excitement of my youth. As days passed, I felt my heart craving more. I oddly missed my solitude at night or quiet sips of bean broth in the morning. There weren’t many bean broth cafes on Pallas. Once more, I found myself reflecting over a bowl of iced cream and knew something didn’t feel quite right. I began panicking. How many years had I wasted in search of a landing to call home just to be in the same position I was in before?
Exhausted, I sat in the crevice of a small crater on the street and there it was. The Ringed Planet loomed ahead in all its majesty in the same exact spot I remembered it on the day of my Leap.
“Saturn,” a little boy whispered behind me. “My mommy said it’s called Saturn.”
I looked at Saturn like a familiar friend, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. Perhaps for some of us home wasn’t where we landed. Perhaps for some of us home was in the moments we paused to catch our breath or in bites of half melted iced cream. While some found home in belonging, perhaps some of us found it in trailblazing. Perhaps for some of us home was not encompassed by an address but embraced in the journey. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and inhaled deeply. Upon my exhale I opened my eyes to look at Saturn once more then got up to make a bowl of iced cream. I smiled to myself. In that brief moment I finally felt like I belonged. I finally felt purpose. I finally felt home.
