On a cloudless night, even roughly 20 miles away, the twin solid rocket boosters poised to shrug off gravity and propel the space shuttle into the heavens paints the sky a deep, bright orange. The light reflecting off the atmosphere is visible long before the flame rises over the horizon, with the familiar craft riding a pillar of smoke over the Atlantic Ocean and into the sky.

Standing on a Florida beach, huddled on a March morning against the strong sea breeze, the only launch I witnessed was a thrilling, inspirational experience.

It overloaded the senses, from the ground rumbling against 5.6 million newton pounds of thrust to the slow comprehension that America had once again, remarkably, sent people into space.

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