QUITE A FEW tourists were passing through, though not many braved the summer heat to take a look at the old ships. I did my best to avoid their masses, and found myself in the company of some old wrecks. A handful of ships and broken pieces lay scattered, tossed about as if by a giants hand, or some unimaginable storm.

The queen of them all lay on her side, once proud masts drooping. I ventured to look into her hull, where rotting lines sagged, tearing from their moorings. Her paint was peeling away, bright-work covered with the soft green patina of neglect. I closed my eyes, and pictured her in her glory, then sighed… this ship was unsalvageable, a relic of a bygone era.

I prowled around a while, poking my nose into shipyards, now quiet with disuse… the whole place had an air of superannuation, of being somehow anachronistic. I felt it too I suppose…

I remember when there were many ships, some being built, some in dock, all with a sense of purpose and vitality. I spent the afternoon, mostly just remembering how it was. Soon enough, time to go home. I rejoined the throng of tourists and made my way back up to the parking lot.

When I drove away from the Johnson Space Center the image of that old Saturn V haunted me. The glory that was, lying useless on her side. Later that night, I kept worrying at the thought, something was bothering me about the whole experience. At first I thought it was that such a beautiful lady deserved a better fate. At 2 AM I finally realized; so do we.

Once it was our way to walk upon the moon.