March 11, 2000  □  Washington, D.C.

Originally entitled Bravery

My son Joel and I, along with several other people, are blasting off to Mars tomorrow. Although I know it’s a historic first, there has been no publicity, and we haven’t even been contacted by Mission Control. I ask myself, “Is there even going to be any Mission Control?” I am concerned, but Joel is confident. I decide—privately—that at the last minute I might refuse to go, but reserve judgement until tomorrow.

Today is the day for farewell parties, and deciding what to bring. I decide against bringing any glassware, and in favor of a long black skirt with deep pockets. I hang the skirt and several other items on a door hinge at the party, in order to hug people.

Many people ask me questions about Joel, and I reply, “Yes, as a child he was totally fearless.” [Not true.]

We play board games at the party. We are the playing pieces. The flight crew has its headquarters at one corner of the board. Our clothing is striped, broad diagonal stripes of brown and white. I am told that the people at the opposite corner of the diagonal, all strangers, are on our team too—and sure enough their clothes are striped.

“Are they too going to Mars,” I ask?

“Yes.”

“And how many of us are there?”

“About 40, including the children.”

I decide to get to know one of the children from the far corner, and take a walk with a little girl. We meet two gorgeous white lions. They are wild—untamed, of course, but also outrageous—designer lions. They have long snow white fur and jewelry, which they wear elegantly, sparingly, just enough for you to know that they are very dangerous and very chic.

They are close, too close to the little girl, and their eyes are fixed on her. My heart pounds as I step between her and the lions, whispering to her to back away slowly and hide behind a square pillar that happens to be not far away. She does so, but the lions now advance deliberately towards me. When they are six feet away, some domesticated lions lounging far to the right begin to roar and paw the dirt, distracting the wild ones. This is my chance to slip away and join the girl.

I decide I am brave enough to go to Mars, after all.