a letter

hey there, it’s emma again. i’m drafting a little something. wanted to share what i have brainstormed so far…

Dear A, 

It’s been awhile since I last found the time, or, to be honest, the reason to write you, but I thought you’d appreciate knowing that I’m doing well. I’m not doing bad, but I’m not doing great - just well. Two years have passed since my last letter, so I guess that means I’ve stayed busy, but I’m quickly discovering that living a purposeful life doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m living a good life.

I mean, in the seventeen years that you’ve lived what I’m sure is an exciting, unpredictable life filled with endless opportunities on Earth, I’ve been here. On the space station. Always on the space station. Sure, it’s a mammoth of a home that seems to be expanded almost every month now, but it still gets old quickly. Every new reading nook and hiding place from the flight surgeons is quickly discovered by both myself, and, well, the flight surgeons.

Venting isn’t the reason that I’m finally writing you again, though. You already have dozens of letters dedicated to that. Instead, I wanted to let you know that I’m finally coming to see you!

Yes! You (hypothetically, of course) read that right! I’m coming to earth for good! And I’ll get to meet you!

You’ll have a lot of time to prepare for my stay - I won’t be leaving for another eight years. Once I’m twenty-five, my brain will be fully developed, and our experiment will be complete. We’ll both be adults. Well, I know that under official United States law, we’re both already adults. Which is crazy. Getting old is weird.

I seem to have digressed a bit there. The point of this letter is to remind you that I (1) still exist and (2) will finally meet you. I promise.

-B