Drifting in the Space of Ramblings

Ramblings About Missing

I miss so many things. I just thought about a plate of rice, beans, and a breaded steak. It's been so long since I've had that. If I had known I was going to die here in space, I would have eaten rice, beans, and breaded steak every day for the past month. It's strange how the most trivial and seemingly insignificant things are what we miss the most.

I remember when I got a jar of honey from Silvana, and it said, "To recover quickly from the flu so you can give me kisses." I miss receiving little thoughtful gifts from someone; the life of an astronaut can be too cold and methodical sometimes. I received gifts that I thought were silly and meaningless at the time, but it's those gifts that I miss. I wish I had that jar of honey with me now, just to hold it and read the message on the label as many times as I could.

I miss being myself. I carried so many useless things on my shoulders for so long. I should have gotten rid of all that weight a long time ago. Drifting in this space completely alone, I now realize that I am gradually getting rid of things I didn't need to hold onto. I've never felt so light, even in a suit that weighs about 130 kilograms.

Every thought that crosses my mind in these final moments feels like an instant exorcism.

Speaking of nostalgia, they say there's no translation for this word in other languages. Nonsense. Nostalgia is just missing something, plain and simple; some people like to complicate things.

I miss your touch, I miss your smile, I miss your gaze, I miss your morning breath, I miss your enthusiasm for life, I miss your hair, and I miss your little gifts.

I miss feeling fear; I lost my fear of things a long time ago. I'm not afraid because I'm going to die. I'm sad about the end of my life, so prematurely, with so many plans still ahead, but fear?

Fear left with you, hand in hand, and it's my fault and no one else's. I miss fear.

I miss camping; I hardly ever did it, just a few times. I wish I had camped more, seen the sun reflecting on a lake or a flowery field among the trees. Felt the earth between my fingers and heard the sounds so different from the city's noise. I miss a random Sunday afternoon when I went fishing with my dad; it was the first and last time I fished with him. We brought the fish home, and they all died without oxygen in a big bucket. I was little and cried because the fish died.

I miss my mother's cooking; it's been so long since I left her care that enjoying her treats has become increasingly rare over time.

My brother, I miss the porn magazine we hid in the ceiling of an old closet at our grandparents' house.

I realize now that I miss many things, but deep down, just one...

I miss being alive.