A rusty patchworked rocket sits on the porch. One by one the occupants of the rocket’s porch leave. The fortunate are carried away and packed into cardboard boxes. Most are emptied into the overflowing trash can. There goes the potted hydrangea. The hummingbird windchime. And the grinning cement frog sculpture. Amidst the cacophonic departure of the other porch inhabitants, the feeble rocket tumbled into the tangle of weeds, an unwanted thing among a garden of unwanted things. The tiny rocket remains alone, and as rain patters on the tin making a familiar tink tink tink noise, it appears to be sobbing for what it lost. As the gentle storm rages on, droplets slide along the rocket’s tin surface, like the meteor showers it could no longer see.

Eventually the rain subsides. The invasive plant species now encased the rocket, the proof of its existence only revealed by the scarcely visible slivers of patchwork. Overtime, the rocket is encompassed with a jacket of dirt. It became apart of the overgrown and unkept landscape, with new neighbors comprising of the local arachid, a sedimentary rock, and the occasional earthworm. To count the days at this point was to count the stars. Absurd and impossible.

The ground beneath the rocket trembled. The slight vibration, easily undetectable, was like a burst of thunder in the customary silence of the yard. A once familiar noise of microscopic stones crackling under car tires came from the direction of the driveway. Car doors slammed. The sound of cardboard boxes thumping against the ground. A laughter broke the still air. The rocket could feel the earth moving from wild and turbulent footsteps.

And then something amazing happened.

With a single touch warmth radiated throughout the rocket. A hand pulled it free from the bonds of isolation. And finally...finally the world turned vibrant again. As the rocket was lifted up, it could actually feel. It could feel the cage of mud crumbling off. It could feel the welcoming breeze. It could feel life.

And as the child flashed a smile, holding the rocket high up in the air, the rocket felt exhilaration.

It felt...loved.

It soared up and up, past the stratosphere, past the exosphere, ascending to the cosmos. Nebulas with resonating colors stretched out to the rocket, welcoming it back. The vastness of the universe was laid out before the rocket, time was nonexistent. Countless stars glittered throughout space. They describe space as dark and empty when there is so much more to this passionate star speckled universe. So much more to the swirling galaxies and innumerable solar systems. So much more to discover, so many mysteries to unearth.

And now the rocket had someone to explore it with.