Europa

July 21, 2048

Tomorrow the day I've been dreading for the last four months comes. I don't even know why I tried to go to bed earlier. I spent the last hour standing outside of Diego's room, watching as he sleeps. He's so peaceful. The fact I won't be able to see him grow up kills me, but knowing Dad will be there every step of the way makes it a bit easier. Still, there is no question that leaving tomorrow will be the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Yesterday we had our little family photo shoot. We tried to have it done a few days earlier, but I started crying my eyes out and I knew the picture just wouldn't come out right. I have to say I'm glad we postponed the photo for another day. The picture came out amazing.

We decided the best place to take the photo was by the beach. As a little girl I always used to love when Dad took me to the beach. I was always drawn to the water. I guess you could say even now I'm drawn to the waters of a whole new alien world.

We waited until sunset to take the photo. In the picture I was knelt down by the ocean with Dad by my side. Diego sat in my lap smiling as he always was. The sun was setting, reflecting perfectly on the water behind us. It was exactly how I wanted Diego to remember us. I wish Mom had left me with a photo like that.

Today Dad handed me two gifts to take with me on the rocket. It was a photo album, filled with pictures from when he and Mom first met, followed by my childhood photos, and leading up to photos of Diego growing up. The final photo in the book was the picture we had just taken. He had also bought a golden locket on a necklace; with the tiny version photo we'd taken on the beach inside a tiny heart that opened when I pressed it. I put it on as soon as he gave it to me and hugged him. I couldn't have asked for a better gift. Honestly, I didn't deserve a gift at all.

I felt bad I hadn't gotten Dad anything. I'd given Diego a chain to remember me by, but it wasn't nearly as thoughtful as the locket Dad had given me. When I apologized to Dad for not getting him anything his response nearly tore my heart in half.

He opened the photo album to the empty pages following the photo on the beach. "Promise me we will finish the rest of the album when you get back."

Once again, I had to tell him that was not something I could promise. Dad dropped the subject. The last thing he wanted to do was make this harder for me then it already was.

Believe me, this is already going to be hard enough.