First Flight

I first flew almost one year ago.  It was a beautiful morning and I had just put the last of my three older kids on the bus for school.  Little Annie was in her high chair eating breakfast.  She had reached the age where she could be entertained for what seemed like hours trying to pick up Cheerios.

I was running around the house opening some windows to let in the first smells of early spring.  Upstairs outside my bedroom there is a very small balcony overlooking the backyard and the woods behind our house.  I opened the French doors and took a step out to feel the warmth of the morning sun on my face and arms.  Here in northeastern Ohio, the sun is something to be lapped up whenever the opportunity arises, and I was like a child presented with a giant bowl of ice cream.  I knew I had to quickly return to Annie.  Any time I left her alone for a few moments in the high chair, I had visions of her choking…yet increasingly I took the chance.  As I was turning to head back inside, I heard the strangest caw-like bird call.  I could tell it was very close by.  I leaned over the wooden rail to see if I could spot it, and the next thing I knew I was in the air.

Of course I thought I was falling to my death, or at least some severe injuries.  It was so fast I didn’t even have time to scream.  And then I was ot longer falling.  I was hovering right outside the kitchen, looking in at Annie still eating her cheerios with gusto.  My first thought was “Oh good, she’s OK.”  It was probably a full ten seconds before I realized that I was floating.  I looked around me and below me and above me.  I wasn’t surprised.  It was like I knew I should have been doing this all along.  I raised my arms and shot up.  I did loop-de-loops. I grinned in ecstasy as the spring air whipped through my hair and chilled my skin.  I soared as high as I dared and lay back allowing the bright sun to warm me from head to toe.  After maybe five minutes, I came down to check on Annie again and saw that her high chair was empty.  I abruptly landed and ran to the back door only to find it locked.  I shot up to the window I had come out of and ran down the steps calling for her.  I found her pooping on the kitchen floor, right in front of the dishwasher.

As I was cleaning her and the floor and doing laundry, etc. – all the typical menial tasks that had made up my daily life for the past several years – I found myself marveling that she climbed out of the high chair on her own.  That’s right.  I was not the least bit astonished that I just flew like a superhero.  I was in awe at the fact that Annie was able to move those clippie things on the tray and then climb down without the whole thing tipping over on her.  How did she do that?  I have trouble with those clips myself.

It really wasn’t until I put her down for her nap and had a moment to myself that the events sunk in.  I was wondering if I should take the chance to fly a little while she was sleeping.  FLY??!

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