Christmas for the lonely

Looking down from my lofty view I see the blue cloudy marble that used to me my home. Now, this place, this is my home. I have been on the ISS for a month now and have only been in contact with civilization once. It is a very lonely existence up here, even with the others on the station, especially during the holidays. At the moment we float around a picture of a decked out spruce and swap stories and family traditions. I sit off to the side quietly.

We weren’t allowed to bring much extra stuff with us… every ounce of cargo was reserved for supplies and rations. So we resorted to making our own games to entertain ourselves this Christmas morning. The favorite was to release some of our drink into the air, watch it glob up and chase after it.

The sun was rising over eastern Germany as I looked up at the man who was speaking. “Я хочу, чтобы мои две маленькие девочки проснуться и увидеть их светящиеся лица, как руки матери им подарки от Деда Мороза.” He was a Russian lad about the age of 32.

“My wish is to see my two little girls wake up and see their glowing faces as their mother hands them presents from Grandfather Frost,” our translator repeated. “In Russian tradition Grandfather Frost, like Santa Claus, brings presents to children. He and his granddaughter, the Snowmaiden, distribute the gifts December 31.”

The Russian nodded his head in agreement.

I’ve always lead a solitary life but there’s something about the empty soul-sucking void of dark space that makes it unbearable. I myself had two small kids that would be waking up in a few hours. Their grandparents took care of them now, while I am away. My wife, their mother, had died 2 years before in a car wreck.

Christmas had little meaning without her or them; my life was now represented by my surroundings: cold, hard, endless.