COSMIC

Epilogue - Golden Years

The year is 2016. The world had just received news of David Bowie's death.

Upon waking up that winter morning and hearing the news, my heart shattered. Though forty-three years had passed since I last saw David, every memory I had from the summer of 1973 felt like yesterday.

I had continued on with my life like he wanted me to. I graduated high school and college, and though my dreams never took me to NASA, I made a career of working in a museum dedicated to space, giving tours and teaching kids who reminded me of myself. I also married, started a family, and was just about to turn sixty--reaching those golden years so highly regarded as the ideal American life. I had even dated Josh not long after David had left, though we both went our separate ways during college. Still, we remained good friends and occasionally called each other up or liked each other's posts on Facebook. However, despite everything I had happily filled my life with, I always kept a special place in my heart for the Starman I fell in love with.

And I liked to think he did the same with me. Whenever I saw him on a late night talk show, heard new songs on the radio, or watched music videos on MTV, I wondered if he ever thought about me. Did he remember those kids he hung out with in the '70s? Did he remember me?

I concluded I would never know for sure. Even though I had made peace with the fact we lived in completely different worlds, I couldn't help but imagine if he'd ever search for me just to tell me he kept his promise.

But after the shocking news of his death, my hopes were dashed. Along with his fans, I was heartbroken for the obvious reasons but something else plagued my mind. He never said goodbye and I never had a chance to. After learning about his final months of struggling with terminal cancer, I wondered if he ever thought to come visit. Maybe he didn't want to upset me, I reasoned. Or maybe he wanted his music to be his parting gift.

It was a chilly morning in January, about two weeks after David's death. Though the sun shined brightly outside, the grasp of winter held firmly to the air. I was home alone on this day, as my husband dared to attempt a day of golf with his friends. A day that didn't consist of rain was a breath of fresh air to all of us.

Sitting in our quiet house, I sipped my coffee at the breakfast table and opened my tablet. I tapped on my Facebook app, where I kept up to date on the kids' happenings with our tiny grandchildren. But just as the page was about to load, there was a knock at the door.

I walked over to the door and answered it, only to see no one standing there. I glanced down the street, but saw no one in sight. Rolling my eyes, I quickly assumed it was the neighbor's kids causing trouble again--but then something came to me.

Just like that summer evening in 1973, I looked down. Laying inches away from my feet was a red rose with a note tied around its stem.

"It can't be," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. I picked up the rose, feeling its soft petals and letting the sense of my touch take me back in time. Then I quickly opened the note and read it, finding the same lyrics as before. This has to be Nancy's doing, I thought. She must remember that night, too. Feeling a little overcome with sadness, I still couldn't help but smile as it made me feel like a teenager again.

Closing the door, I carried the rose into the kitchen and placed it in a vase. I was about to call Nancy when I looked out the window facing the backyard. I gasped loudly, my heart jumping in my throat as I saw someone outside.

I stumbled to the window, attempting to sneak a better look at the person while trying to hide myself, but they had disappeared behind the trees and bushes. Proving unsuccessful and reasoning it was the neighbor's kids, I stepped outside and onto the deck.