The main engines ignited six minutes before liftoff, shaking beneath me like a monstrous earthquake. The force shook through my bones to vibrate in my sternum like the bass of a rock concert, and the deep rumble increased bit-by-bit as the engines came up to full-thrust. When the countdown clock finally leveled out to T-minus-zero, the solid rocket boosters ignited like a kick beneath my back to lift the Starflier 1 off the launch pad.

The first lurching movement off the launch pad was one of the most dangerous moments in the entire journey, but it was over almost instantly. The pounding output of exhaust from the two boosters shook me continually in little bursts as the ship accelerated, going from stationary to 2.5 G’s. Starflier tore violently through the lower atmosphere under thousands of pounds of thrust, busting through clouds and patches of unstable air.

After approximately forty-five seconds, the engines throttled down to reduce stress on the structure of the Starflier’s body while experiencing “maximum dynamic pressure” which sounds like something one would aim for during sex, but is actually the point at which aerodynamic stress on a vehicle in atmospheric flight is maximized. The dynamic pressure acting against the craft decreases as the air density decreases while the vehicle climbs, ultimately reaching zero when the air density becomes zero.

When passing that milestone, the engines throttled back to full thrust, creating a spine-tingling scream of the slipstream outside the walls of the cabin. Two minutes after launch, the boosters went silent. The three main engines continued pushing Starflier 1 upward, pushing up with a million pounds of thrust in what was then an almost silent, vibration-less force.

Now almost outside of the thick atmosphere of our planet, the slipstream noise was silent. In fact, the entire ship was almost entirely, eerily silent, even though I was still traveling at 1G. As the ship escaped the gravity of the earth and the ship grew ever lighter, that 1G began to increase. Soon I was traveling at 3G, and my body felt every second of it. The force of that acceleration made it hard to draw breath, it felt like a hippopotamus was standing on my chest. Each second at that speed created an exponentially more painful experience.

All I could do was pray the structure would hold together for the final push as the mach numbers increased- 22, 23, 24, and finally, 25. The main engine cut off, dropping the thrust to zero in half a dizzy second. The pressure of my suit on my body and the straps holding me to my seat vanished. All pressure vanished. I was weightless, alive and unharmed in low orbit.

It takes just under eight minutes to get to space, accelerating from zero to over eighteen thousand miles per hour. That’s twenty-three times the speed of sound.

I gazed out my window breathlessly, knowing the moments I had up here today were precious and short.

Zoey should see this, I thought to myself. Someday I’ll show it to her.

But not today. Today I still needed to get back home and prove to the world that it was possible. I’d promised myself that I’d figure out a way to share this all with the world one day, and I would. This was just the first step out of many.

“Capcom to Starflier,” my radio tweeted, “come in Starflier. How’s the weather up there? Are you ready to come back home?”

“Starflier to Capcom,” I replied, “Give me a second to get my bearings first, will you?”

“Copy that.”

Around me, the air in the control module felt thin, artificial, and bizarre. I’d forgotten how strange the lack of gravity was on the body. It affects every single bodily system and senses all at once. My stomach, in particular, did not appreciate what I’d just put it through.

But just as I remembered, the physical discomfort was meaningless in comparison to the view out the window. Outside the window to my right, the Earth rotated slowly beneath me. I was still moving incredibly quickly, but outside of any atmosphere to create drag, it felt like I was standing still. Weather patterns swirled beneath me on the lit sight of the earth, while the line that separated day from night drew a stark contrast over the surface. To my left, there was nothing but blackness. Without an atmosphere to magnify and refract the light of distant stars, there was nothing but inky darkness out there.

Pictures could never do this view justice, no matter how many high definition versions I brought down. From up here, all the problems of earth seem so small and inconsequential. Even my own fears about Zoey seemed surmountable. If I could make it to space, surely, I could win Zoey.

Perspective. That’s what space travel really gives to humanity. Perspective about how small and pointless our problems are in the great scheme of things. You might think that this sort of perspective would breed insecurity or feelings of inferiority. Maybe even an existential dread about the futility of life.

But that isn’t what this unearthly perspective gave to me. Instead, it made me incredibly grateful for my life, for my relationships with the people I care about, and the incredible planet I had the great good fortune to be born on. From way up here, human problems look small because they are small. We’re small. Not unimportant, just small. Yet, look what small people like us can create. We can transcend our own planet, reaching outward with the things we make from our own imaginations to the stars and planets above us. Even small things can be important. Sometimes the smallest things are the most important.

Somewhere down beneath me, Zoey was waiting for me. Now more than ever, I had something to look forward to each day when I opened up my eyes. Before, I had the dream of spaceflight to motivate me. I still have that, obviously, but now I have someone to share that dream with. Maybe she would never feel as passionately about it as I do, maybe she would even think it was silly. But unless humanity stopped wrecking our planet—which was unlikely from what I could tell—our grandchildren would need somewhere to live. I’d do my part to make that happen for them. Zoey could take care of the Earth through her reporting on important issues, and I’d take care of the cosmos. Together we could change the world.