<p>Something about winding up here in a place so fundamentally different from where we’ve lived before has me in mind of the past. I wasn’t quite sure why this was, at first. Obviously, I miss the prairie and life aboard Castor, but one would think that I’d be more worried about what’s in front of me than what’s behind me. The prospect of months or years aboard this new world — never mind the core facets of existing in this place — gives me plenty of time to worry about the future at my leisure, though.</p>
<p>I could spend all of that time thinking about my partners (and I’ve certainly been thinking about them plenty), but you’ve been coming up in my thoughts more than I’d expected. Something about this extra layer of individuation has you feeling even less like a down-tree instance than you did before, and far more like a good friend or close family member — especially given how much I miss you.</p>
<p>I miss you! Is that weird to say? Perhaps. We’ve never met, have we? Ruminating on my roots has me thinking fondly on all that’s come and gone. We are stuck however many billions of kilometers apart, though, and that distance will only grow, the time between messages will only ever get longer. At least I think I better understand what Dear was talking about with regards to the difference between longing and being missed.</p>
