Last Saturday morning, a loud, thunderous noise awakened me from my slumber. The house shook as I struggled to get my feet out of bed and on the floor before the world around me collapsed. It was 7:07 am.
"Ginger! Quick! They're launching a rocket." I shouted over the rumbling.
In my pajamas, I ran to the living room with Ginger in tow, threw open the sliding glass door and raced outside to watch. The Atlas V rocket was already high in the sky. Its curly, white plume floated across the clear blue early morning sky. I stood watching the spectacle for several minutes as the rocket's rumble slowly faded into the morning quiet.
I have lived here on the Space Coast of Florida for nearly a year and a half. And I have to say that I will never get tired of watching rockets launch from my backyard. Shuttles and rockets are launched at all hours of the day and night. Shuttle launches get all the publicity and news coverage. All different kinds of rockets are sent into space more regularly that the rest of world is even aware. Every day the local paper prints the date and time of the next launch on the front page. In the middle of the night, the sound has often scared the bejesus out of me. In the afternoon, I've dropped everything to watch the minute the house started to shake. I'm fascinated.
And it's not just the launches. It's the landings too. I listen for the sonic booms as the shuttle prepares to land. One morning I was out for my usual walk when I thought I was being shot. Twice. When I didn't find any blood, I realized the shuttle was back home safe and sound.
I grew up in the sixties when space travel was new. In elementary school all the kids would be huddled in the gym to watch launches on a small black and white television. It was exciting then but it certainly can't hold a candle to the thrill of seeing the real thing, live and in person, right in my own backyard.
