I Miss Earth

The stones on the walkway were smooth and rounded. At least that’s how I remembered them to be. It’s been so long since we’ve evacuated to space and I simply miss my old life, our Earth which became too toxic for us to live on. I’m old now, one of the older ones in this new home of ours. Now there are children who will never be able to experience the beauty and curiosity that nature holds for us. Instead, as a poor attempt to fill that gaping void, they've made holograms and museums. Yet it will never be the same. All I can do is sit, close my eyes, and recall all my fond memories. 

The crickets chirping late at night, the feel of moss, the sound of leaves crunching underneath your feet, snowflakes falling onto your eyelashes, and the feel of the sun covering your body in a blanket of warmth. I try to explain to my grandchildren how wonderful life on Earth was but they do not listen. They are still too young and immature to understand. I sit and watch my family try to convince me to join in on various activities. “Come on, Grandma, come watch the sunset with us, or at least come to the flower garden with us.” But I do not join. How am I supposed to enjoy something when I know what the real thing looked like, and how it made me feel? I can not go and watch a fake sunset when I know my fond memories were created under a real one. How am I supposed to feel at peace on this ship when I know all that they have here is not real? It is simply a way for people to pretend that life on this ship is just as good. But it's not, and I miss Earth.