It was blinding.

I shielded my eyes with my thick glove, accidentally knocking my hand into the glass visor. My left hand remained firmly attached to the rail within the airlock, and I imagined a stellar breeze sweeping me back into the embrace of safety beyond the inner hatch. I could feel my chest rising and falling, pushing itself harder to resist against the restricting layers upon layers of cloth and metal and... well, I wasn't paid to figure out the logistics of the inner working of a spacesuit. My job was just to wear them.

I finally lowered my hand, allowing the power of the Sun to overwhelm my being and engulf me in light. It seemed silly back on Earth. A yellow circle in the sky that seemed to move to and fro with the rotation of the planet. How could that tiny ball, so far away, be the reason we existed at all?

But now, bathed in the shine of the Sun, I finally understood. Why the Egyptians worshipped it and coveted it. Why the children sang songs on rainy days for it to return. Why my wife had always believed that the energy of the Sun could fuel us, us; our despicable and undeserving species.

Solar flares burst outward, tangles of golden loops stretching out into the seemingly infinite void of space. I floated in the airlock, my gold lined visor protecting my eyes and face from most of the damage the Sun would've dealt had I been exposed to its' full capability. I thought of what would happen if I decided to escape my stuffy suit, just for a second.

But that would be stupid. I know what would happen. I'd either immediately freeze or burn to death, without ever having been able to appreciate and bask in the glow of the Sun.

I watched the light glint off of the solar panels, harvesting the energy to convert to the electricity that ran this station. The Sun could not only charge us, but also our inventions. It was incredible how we utilised our life source to advance ourselves. Just incredible.

I remembered my wife again. She used to have these crystals she'd hang up in our bedroom by the window. Right where the light of the Sun would hit it at 7am, casting a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes on the walls and, annoyingly enough, on my face. She'd laugh and pull the covers over ourselves, regaling me with her tales of the healing power of light and all that stuff. I never believed in it, of course. It was just baloney to me, but I'd shut up for a few moments in those mornings just to listen to her talk.

She'd always said when she died, she would return to the Sun. Then she'd come down and visit me on Earth in the form of beams of light. I'd laughed it off at the time. But now...

Maybe she was waiting for me. In there.

All those hours of studying, all the logical facts and rational reasonings that influenced how I saw the universe, suddenly quieted down. Smothered, more like. They were there, in the background of my thoughts, just as a secondary priority now.

I undid the hook at the waistband of my suit, letting it float back towards the inner hatch leading to the rest of the space station. I turned off my comms to make sure no one could reach me. I braced my hands on the sides of the airlock, clumsily grabbing onto the odd ends of some wires with my large, clunky gloves. I took a deep breath in and out, in and out. I pushed myself forward.

And finally, I let go.