I've always thought I'd quite like to go into space.
But last week some friends and I went to the Planetarium. We lay back in chairs and watched images of outer space projected onto the dome ceiling.
Looking up like that, it actually felt like we were flying through space. It was an incredible feeling.
But as I flew through the infinite darkness and looked back down to Earth, I suddenly realised I didn't want to go to space at all.
Space was HUGE and DARK and LONELY.
It was a journey into everything I feared the most:
Being disconnected from everything and everyone.
Being completely ALONE.
I realised that everyone I loved in the entire world was on that beautiful blue and green ball floating in the blackness.
And I realised how many wonderful things the Earth contained.
In the face of such immensity, I felt a rush of gratitude for the little things I usually take for granted.
Being able to jump up and down on solid ground. Feeling the sun on my face.
Being able to dip my foot in the ocean. Hearing the kettle boil. Curling up under a blanket.
Being surrounded by people who know how many sugars I have my tea.
I suddenly realised how much I loved the world.
I didn't want to leave it at all. Not even for a day.