high flight
I remember February 1 last year, sunny and cool. This year the air is chilly and the sky is a never ending shade of gray, but the view out my window is the same. I can see the flag on top of Mission Control, and it's flying at half staff. It's been there since Thursday. Houston has gone crazy for the Super Bowl, which finally arrives tonight and will leave as quickly as it came. But for me, and for a lot of us, today means something different.
You never forget where you were and how you felt when you suddenly hear news that shakes you to your very core. We lost Columbia and her crew one year ago today.
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
- John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
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