I’m afraid you won’t like what I have to say.

You are very generous for hosting this party in my honor and assisting myself and my family as we reacclimate to normal life. We are truly grateful for your kind words and gestures, and I wish to repay you with my speech. For months now, you have waited patiently for this moment. You have many questions about my disappearance and you deserve some answers. I’m sorry to say I don’t have any.

I don’t remember the last two years the same way you do. For me, it was a blink of an eye. I remember my instruments going blank and a pressure on my chest that made me think I was losing control, but after a moment the pressure lifted. The only major difference was my gas tank was empty. I assumed I had a leak, so I turned around quickly and glided far enough home to get picked up by a freighter ship.

Well, you know the rest. I wish I could help with the curiosity, folks, but there just isn’t much else to it.

When I flew across the ocean two years ago, I had one thing on my mind—getting home. All that matters now is that I’m back, and I’m leaving again anytime soon.