I used to live a few hundred yards outside the Johnson Space Center in Houston. Early each morning, I’d drive about three minutes to the center—that was my commute. On October 14, 1984, I was technically off for the day, since I’d just landed from my first space flight the night before. But I wanted to see all our photos. I’d had this great experience—one I’d dreamed of forever and worked toward for ages—and it had lasted only seven days. I kept looking at the sky, still wishing I was up there.
On my drive in that morning, though, I noticed a bunch of migrating birds flying in various V shapes, forming and re-forming as they do, crossing in front of the last bit of sunrise color in the sky. Now that’s a good reason to be back, I thought, surprising myself. Sunrise and birds—nothing out of the ordinary, but not something you can see in space. Suddenly it was nice to be on Earth again.