Flying

I have not flown very many times in my life. I believe the first time would have been in 1974. I would have been about 10 years old and it was a trip to Florida with my family. In 1982 my mother treated my 2 sisters and I to a trip to California to visit relatives. There was a long dry spell until I was married in 1996 and my husband and I spent our honeymoon in Florida. There were 2 more vacations to Florida to visit my stepdaughter before we divorced in 2007.

In the past couple of months I've flown to Texas twice. Those flights were a new experience for me because at 43 I was flying alone for the first time. I've always felt safer with my feet closer to the ground, but I have been trying to enjoy my time in the air. Planes themselves are amazing to me. The fact that they can lift off the ground with hundreds of people in them and fly high above the clouds keeps me in awe. I know, I know. Men have stepped on the moon. I still have a hard time processing it all.

I try not to think about how nervous I am and enjoy the view. I love to look at the clouds from the air. Their shades of brilliant white to deep gray. Their textures. The way their ghostly shadows move along the rise and fall of the land. In the daylight the patchwork quilt man has created can be beautiful, too. Tiny roads of buff or charcoal dividing odd shapes of green, brown, and gold. Depending on the crops grown in the area and the time of year you can find all sorts of textures and shades. There are rivers and lakes, farms and towns. Teeny, tiny people in little trucks and cars seem to be hardly moving, but they are rushing through their lives having no idea I am watching them. I've yet to fly over mountains...or at least I don't recall when I have. I'm guessing that must be just amazing as well. I love flying into a city at night. The headlights, streetlights and brightly lit buildings can be just breathtaking.

My recent flying has reminded me of a dream I had frequently as a child. I used to dream I could fly. I'd start moving my arms and lift off of the ground. I don't remember just hovering or exploring, but I remember flying higher and higher and higher. I would get beyond the clouds and would find it difficult to breathe. Eventually I would have to bolt back to a safe altitude and catch my breath again. I would do this over and over. I also remember "flying" in my school building. I would stay close to the ceiling so that the teachers would not be able to reach me and pull me down. I vividly remember these dreams being so real to me that I would stand in front of a tall, oval mirror at the end of our hallway at home and move my arms to try to levitate. Sadly, it did not work. I treasure those dreams because I can still feel the sense of freedom it gave me.

I have been lucky enough to experience similar dreams as an adult, but unfortunately it is much less frequently. There are few things that can give me that same feeling. Riding a horse at full gallop or a motorcycle on a smooth, curvy road come close. I'm guessing riding in a convertable would be right up there, but I've yet to experience that. I settle for the windows rolled down and the sunroof open in my comfortable 4-door sedan. I enjoy standing and facing the breeze at the top of a hill. I guess just give me the sun in my face and wind in my hair now and then...

It's time to go to sleep and see if my dreams take me flying tonight. A girl can always hope.