Handwritten Journal
In a rare, two-entry day, I continued to write on my experiences as a supervisor in the simulations department of the US Space and Rocket Center. Twenty-one hours separated both. I had no sleep pattern. It was appropriate. In one day, I would manage to write about this beloved experience. This second entry, likely from the comfort of my bed, elaborated on the latter half of being a member of management, another cycle of incoming Crew Trainers, more romance interests, and the end of the most fulfilling job I’ve ever had. It would have completed my grand reclamation of memories if it were not for one final detail. Her name was Ophelia.
