Christina H. Koch

It was a rainy day in Houston. Summer of 2013. Unusual for the city, which is usually very hot and dry. Christina Hammock Koch was on her way to work: she was an astronaut in training.

After a short drive, he arrived at the Johnson Space Center, parked his car, and got out.

Today was not a special day: no aquatic training or complex simulations. Her day was dedicated to calculations and solar engineering—designing panels for a new wing on a satellite—something routine for her.

Her gaze swept across the parking lot and the entrance to the visitor center. Families, school groups lined up… nothing out of the ordinary.
But something caught his attention.

On the sidewalk in front of the visitors sat a little girl — she guessed she couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 years old.

There were no adults nearby with her.

Her protective heart instinctively flickered... but Christina mentally shrank back; perhaps someone had simply gone to get something from the car and left it waiting there for a few minutes while they talked on the phone or paid for coffee.

She walked inside without any further immediate worries until she reached her office; a natural worker, she immersed herself completely in the mathematical-scientific world where she always excelled

At midday, standing in front of the cafe window and observing outside, everything was still the same.

Until his eyes inevitably returned to that same girl...

Still there? Alone?

The heart fell heavily against his ribs...

How could anyone leave a baby alone for such an extended period? Where would the parents/guardians be? My mind started racing – considering possible scenarios: good (brief forgetfulness) or bad (abandonment).

Taking a deep breath, she made a firm decision:

You should get closer and check what's really happening to this solitary creature in the light rain.