I keep finding myself
looking up at the sky.
And remembering...
That I used to fly in my younger days.
Beginning first by jumping off the roof of our house
when I was a little girl.
This an attempt to convince my parents
that I was too much of a tom-boy
and needed to take dance lessons
so I would act more like a dainty girl.
As a teenager, I longed to fly.
Knowing then that jumping off the roof
wasn't going to get me very far,
I began calling the airport
and asking about flying lessons.
Always too much money involved.
So I waited.
But would call every year, probably close to my birthday.
Always being told how much it would cost
and always realizing that I might never have
that kind of money.
Finally, one year, after hearing the same story,
I asked about skydiving.
It was cheaper.
So I did. Skydive.
Nearly 500 times.
And that was flying.
My body zipping through the air
at break-neck speeds.
Turning flips and linking up
with others to create kaleidoscope designs in the air.
 |
| One of my earliest jumps, replete with round chute and Adidas high tops! |
I also kept asking about flying... airplanes.
And found out that I could work for flying time.
So I did. Work and Fly. Airplanes.
I gave it up when I had my daughter.
Too much time required to
satisfy my thrill of flight.
On pretty days I still look up at the sky
and think about those times
when my body tumbled
through the air.
In an
Unencumbered.
Free falling.
Flight.
I've linked up with Heather at the Extraordinary Ordinary to Just Write.
You can read her latest Just Write post here and find out more about Just Write by clicking here.
