I think I was nine or ten the first time I saw a Space Shuttle on TV. I believe it was one of the first landing tests, and I saw clips of it being carried up, piggy-back style, on a huge airplane, then detaching and gliding to a landing on its own. Even at that age, I knew I was seeing something special.

I also remember watching a couple televised launches, and thinking that the countdown timer was a huge lie because of all the times it was stopped.

I wasn’t watching the launch on January 28th, 1986, but I knew about it because of all the publicity around the first Teacher in Space, Christa McAuliffe. Everyone did. It reawoke my ambition to go to space myself one day.

The shuttle Challenger exploded that day, seventy-three seconds after launch.

The six professional astronauts and one teacher that died that day weren’t alone: my previously-unshakable faith in technology, subconsciously bred from years of reading science fiction, did as well.

Two days ago, the last second-to-last shuttle returned from its final mission.

I really can’t tell just how I feel about that… a subdued, empty feeling of grief, I think. As if a person of legendary stature, admired by all, had died after a long illness.

There will be other space programs, and newer and fancier vehicles, but to me none of them will ever be quite the same as the Space Shuttle.

EDIT: Correction, the above is a little premature: the final shuttle mission will be flown by Atlantis, and is currently set to launch on July 8th. Same sandwich, different bite. 😉