I almost watched humanity return to the Moon.

The ticket is booked. Leave from work is approved. In my head, I’ve already crossed the Atlantic and stood under a Florida sky, waiting for the ground to remind me that physics is not subtle. The mission feels real now. Not as news, not as history, but as a plan.

For a moment, everything aligns. Dates, permissions, intent. Space stops being an abstraction and becomes logistics: flight numbers, hotel pages, buffer days. The romance of exploration quietly hands over control to spreadsheets and availability calendars. I keep going because this feels like one of those rare moments worth arranging life around.

Then reality intervenes: not dramatically, but efficiently.

Hotels vanish. Flights spike. What remains costs more than comfort and asks for a different kind of sacrifice. I refresh pages, wait for inventory to return, for numbers to soften. They don’t. And somewhere in that process, the question changes. It stops being how much do I want this? and becomes what am I willing to compromise to say I was there?

That is where I pause.

The rocket will launch whether I’m present or not. It doesn’t care about my bookings, my enthusiasm, or my timing. Engines will ignite, trajectories will hold, and history will proceed with the same indifference it always has. I will watch from a distance, through data streams and live feeds, knowing that proximity is not the same as participation.

There is a quiet assumption that passion must always be proven through sacrifice. Spaceflight itself suggests otherwise. Missions are delayed. Launches are scrubbed. Windows close and reopen. Restraint is not failure but it is often correction.

So I step back, not to abandon the moment, but to preserve my relationship with it. I choose not to force a memory that would arrive tangled with stress or regret. I choose to let this launch pass, intact, unclaimed, waiting for a better alignment.

This is not the end of the orbit.
It’s just not today’s burn.

Launch Window, Not Today! was originally published in Orbit Notes on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

We always talk about space like it’s out there, some distant place far above the clouds, maybe beyond the stars.
But here’s something I knew all along:

Space officially begins just 100 kilometers / 62 miles above us.

Yep. That’s it. Not thousands. Not millions. Just 100 km / 62 miles up.

For context? That’s less than the drive from New York City to Trenton, NJ, or even simpler, San Francisco to San Jose.
If roads could go straight up, you could drive to space in under two hours.
That shook me.

🌍 So, Where Does Earth Actually End?

The boundary of “space” is generally accepted to be at the Kármán Line, 100 km above sea level.

Here’s a quick altitude breakdown to help make sense of that:

• 🏔 Mount Everest: ~9 km
• ✈️ Airplanes fly: ~10–12 km
• ☁️ Weather balloons: ~30–40 km
• 🛸 Kármán Line (edge of space): 100 km
• 🛰 International Space Station: ~408 km
• 🌕 The Moon: ~384,400 km

In short, you’re already kinda close to space. Much closer than we imagine when we stare up from rooftops and feel galaxies away from it all.

✈️ Why Rockets Don’t Just Go “Up”

This was another myth that got crushed for me:
Rockets don’t go straight up forever.

They actually tilt sideways and chase orbit, not just height.
Because in space, it’s not enough to be high, but you have to be fast.

To stay in orbit around Earth, something has to travel sideways at nearly 28,000 km/h.
That’s how the International Space Station keeps circling us. It’s not just floating, but it’s falling around Earth, perpetually missing the ground.

🤯 I Didn’t Expect This

Before I started learning astronomy, space felt like fiction.
Distant. Mysterious. Way beyond my reach.

But now, knowing it starts just 100 km up?
It feels strangely… close. Like a thin skin over the world we live in.
And yet, the real distance lies not in kilometers, but in the energy it takes to escape Earth’s pull.

That contradiction is what pulls me in.

🌌 Orbit Notes: What I’m Taking Away

Space isn’t far in distance.
It’s far in effort. In engineering. In energy.
But not in imagination.

And that’s what I’m chasing with this blog: Orbit Notes is about asking questions like this and being okay with being amazed by simple things.

🔭 What’s Next?

Over the coming weeks, I’m diving deeper into basic astronomy and rocket science: one concept at a time.

I’ll be breaking down things like:

• How satellites stay in orbit
• What actually keeps the Moon from crashing into Earth
• Why rockets need multiple stages
• And how much thrust it really takes to escape gravity

All explained from the perspective of someone who’s still learning but deeply curious.

If you’ve ever wanted to understand space without the math headache, stick around. I’m learning out loud, and you’re welcome to follow along.

Thanks for reading,
 — Ritwik

🚀 How Far Is Space, Really? was originally published in Orbit Notes on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“Some people look up at the sky and see emptiness.
I look up and feel a pull like the moon and the stars have always had something to say.”

Growing up in Mumbai, I didn’t have a telescope or a scientist in the family.
I had something else: curiosity, raw, restless, and sometimes lonely. The kind of curiosity that made me stare at the moon during power cuts or wonder how rockets don’t fall straight back down.

I never had access to elite education.
I wasn’t a straight-A science student.
In fact, for a long time, I felt like I was on the outside of “real science”: too emotional, too distracted, too late to begin.

But somewhere along the way, I realized something that changed me:

You don’t need a degree to be curious.
You don’t need to be a genius to love the universe.
And you don’t need permission to start learning.

🌌 What is Orbit Notes?

Orbit Notes is not a science blog written by an expert.
It’s a diary: a personal record of learning, exploration, and wonder.

It’s where I:

• Document my self-learning journey in astronomy and space science
• Translate complex ideas into everyday language
• Share what I learn through NASA’s Open Science 101 and beyond
• Explore stories, questions, and mysteries of the cosmos

✨ Why Now?

Because I’m tired of waiting.
Tired of feeling like I’m “not qualified enough” to speak about science.
Tired of being a passive consumer of wonder when I could be a creator of it.

And because I believe we need more stories, more voices, more curious minds orbiting knowledge, especially from places like mine, where resources may be scarce but dreams are sky-high.

🚀 Final Words

If you’ve ever felt too small to start…
If you’ve ever looked at the stars and thought, “Is it too late for me?”
This blog is for you.

Let’s explore together.
Let’s get lost and find meaning.
Let’s orbit something greater than doubt.

—

Ritwik K
Founder & Editor, Orbit Notes

Why I Started Orbit Notes was originally published in Orbit Notes on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.