January 1st, 2055.

Fae-wood crusted with pink illumis. Bright sheen, a soft iridescence in the dead of night. The forest is humming with a whisper. It is alive again. Alive again, but heck, the softest ambience yet. It is all stabilizing, I think. Or rather, I hope. Glowing flurry of specks. Reminds me of fireflies back home. Can see the Sun in the sky, so far. It’s so far. I remember seeing it up in the sky everyday, the rays scorching my pupils a bit too strong. Now she’s just a speck in the sky, like you are, Magnolia. Fae-wood’s pretty and all, but not as much as you are. Still have your grandmother’s watch. You know how you always say it’s 1855 vintage? Two hundred years old, this year. Wish I could see that ball drop back home.

Your dearest astronaut wife, 

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Lapis Lazuli.

January 13th, 2055.

Spent all day today thinking about Toby. There isn’t a day where I don’t think of our sweet boy. How is he? Does he miss Mama Lapis? 

Tear-strained regards,

Lapis Lazuli

January 23rd, 2055.

I’d have so much to tell you, Magnolia. Damn it! Someday, when I come home, I'll show you all of these letters. Each and every single one of them. I’ll read them to you and Toby and we’ll be proud of how I came back from CUA-MX1 alive, after two years of radio silence. I’ll read them to you and Toby and we’ll be proud of how I found the cause of the radioactive outbreak, and Mama Lapis saved the desolate world. I’ll read them to you and Toby and--

Really, Magnolia. I realized something. All I want to tell you is that I’m alive, and I’m somewhere out there. And I’m coming home for you and Toby no matter what.

With love and hopefully a bit of transportive magic,

Lapis Lazuli