When I was a little girl, maybe around 4, I was convinced I had the ability to fly. I observed the birds  They had wings.  I had arms.  They took off from zero. They simply leaned forward and raised their wings.  Magic! There was no doubt in my mind, although the adults in my family made every effort to convince me otherwise.  I would stand on an overturned bucket in the back yard and concentrate.  I talked to my arms.  I conferred with the air.  I closed my eyes tightly and waited to take off.  I concentrated until I was ‘in the zone.  There were times I was certain by body lightened and my feet levitated.  Alas, I never actually took flight.  But I continued to try, often in secret so no one would laugh at me.

As an adult, I have stopped standing on buckets, but deep within, where only my child still dwells, I retain the certainty and the hope that one day I will slip the chains of gravity  that keep me earthbound and float into the blue.