Chapter Two Hundred Eight: The Astronaut
Aurora was accepted into the astronaut program on a sunny Tuesday in June.
Lina received the news in a phone call. She was in the garden, deadheading roses, when her phone buzzed with Aurora's name on the screen. The roses were her favorite—deep crimson blooms that Katherine had planted decades ago, back when the garden was just a patch of dirt and a dream. Now they were full and lush, their petals soft as velvet, their scent sweet and heady. Lina wiped her hands on her apron and answered, her fingers leaving smudges of soil on the screen.
"Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma," Aurora said, her voice high and breathless. "I got in."
Lina sat down on the bench, the same wooden bench where Katherine had sat every morning, watching the sunrise. The wood was worn smooth by decades of use, polished by the hands of generations. She could almost feel Katherine's presence beside her.
"Got in where, sweetheart?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"The astronaut program. I'm going to be an astronaut. Just like Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma Grace."
Lina's eyes filled with tears. She looked up at the sky, at the clouds drifting lazily overhead, and thought about how many times she had received news like this. How many times she had sat on this very bench, phone in hand, tears streaming down her face, as another generation announced that they were reaching for the stars.
"Congratulations, sweetheart," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."
---
The family celebrated.
The penthouse was filled with people. Every generation was there, from the oldest to the youngest. The rooms were crowded with laughter and conversation, the air thick with the smell of fresh flowers and baking bread. Children ran through the halls, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. Babies cried in their mothers' arms. Grandparents dozed in armchairs, lulled by the warmth and the noise.
Aurora stood in the middle of the living room, her smile bright, her eyes shining. She was twenty-four years old, with dark hair and a determined expression, and she radiated the same quiet confidence that had carried Grace to Mars.
"I'm going to space," she said.
The family cheered.
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Grace was there.
She was eighty-seven now, her hair white as snow, her face lined with wrinkles. She walked with a cane, and her body was frail, but her eyes still held the fire that had carried her to Mars.
She stood up slowly, using her cane for support, and walked to Aurora.
"I'm so proud of you," she said.
Aurora hugged her. "Thank you, Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma."
Grace pulled back and looked at her. "Do you know what it's like? Going to space?"
Aurora shook her head. "Not yet. But I will."
Grace smiled. "It's terrifying and wonderful. You'll be scared. You'll be amazed. You'll never be the same."
Aurora nodded. "I'm ready."
Grace hugged her again. "I know you are."
---
The months passed.
Aurora trained every day. She learned about the spacecraft. She practiced spacewalks. She prepared for every possible emergency.
Lina watched her from a distance, her heart full.
She thought about Grace, who had walked on Mars. She thought about Stella, who had unlocked the secrets of the universe. She thought about all the dreamers in their family, all the star-gazers, all the ones who had reached for the sky.
Aurora was one of them.
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The launch day arrived cold and clear.
Lina sat in the front row at the viewing area, her cane in her hand, her eyes fixed on the rocket. The family filled the stands around her—Lily and Leo, Grace and Stella and Clara and Samuel, Eleanor and Thomas and Victoria and baby Stella and baby Ethan, and all the great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, great-great-great-grandchildren, great-great-great-great-grandchildren, great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren, great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren, great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren, great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren, and great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren.
Lina's heart was pounding.
Her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter was going to space.
She thought about the first time Aurora had said she wanted to be an astronaut. She was four years old, sitting on Lina's lap, looking up at the stars. She thought about the first time Aurora had gone to space camp. She was fourteen, nervous and excited, calling every night. She thought about the first time Aurora had applied to the astronaut program. She was twenty-two, determined and hopeful, refreshing her email every five minutes.
And now this.
She was not ready.
But she had to be.
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The countdown began.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Liftoff.
The rocket soared into the sky, leaving a trail of fire and smoke.
Aurora was on her way to space.
Lina watched until the rocket disappeared from sight.
She cried.
Lily held her hand.
"She's going to be fine," Lily said.
Lina leaned into her daughter. "I know. But I'm still going to cry."
"That's your job."
---
Aurora called from space.
The signal took several minutes to reach Earth. Several minutes for her voice to travel across the vastness of space.
"Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma," she said. "I'm in space."
Lina's eyes filled with tears. "I know, sweetheart. I'm watching."
"The Earth is beautiful. You can see the oceans and the clouds and the lights of the cities."
Lina smiled. "I can imagine."
Aurora was quiet for a moment. "Thank you," she said. "For believing in me."
Lina's eyes filled with tears.
"I've always believed in you," she said. "From the very beginning."
---
The family gathered to watch the spacewalks.
Aurora floated outside the space station, repairing equipment, conducting experiments.
Lina watched her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter and felt her heart swell.
She was walking in space. Her granddaughter was walking in space.
---
Aurora returned to Earth six months later.
The capsule landed in the ocean. The recovery team pulled her out. She was smiling. She was crying. She was home.
Lina watched on television and cried.
---
The family celebrated.
The penthouse was filled with people. Every generation was there, from the oldest to the youngest. Aurora stood in the middle of the living room, wearing her flight suit, her smile bright.
"I'm home," she said.
Lina hugged her.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," she said.
---
That night, Lina sat on the couch alone.
The penthouse was quiet. The family was gone. Aurora was home.
But she was not alone.
She looked at the photograph on the mantel—Ethan, young and handsome, his gray eyes bright, his smile warm.
She looked at the night sky through the window.
The star that was Ethan twinkled.
"I love you," she whispered.
She thought about Aurora, the newest astronaut in their constellation. A bright star, soaring through the sky.
She thought about all the stars that had come before. The ones who had burned bright and faded away. The ones who were still burning, still shining, still becoming.
She thought about her husband, her constant, her anchor, her home.
She was not afraid.
Not anymore.
She had survived worse.
She could survive anything.
As long as she had her family.
As long as she had her constellation of stars.
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End of Chapter Two Hundred Eight