flight

Once upon a time

there was a woman who

once was a child.

Her childhood was very complicated.

(Complicated—the word you use in place of all the others…)

And it helped form the person she became.

She made her way through the world

making mistakes

and falling in love…

looking all around

and learning

(sometimes).

She gave birth to children of her own.

These children made her heart sing, and

they made life

challenging,

and

beautiful, all at once.

She carried many of her old fears and joys into parenthood.

Some of her fears she could manage,

and others…came swooping in and took her legs out from under her.

One was a fear of flight.

Not of dream flight (where she could soar over tree tops),

Or of the flight of birds,

which she always thought was breathtaking.

But of herself. In flight.

From one physical place to another.

Air beneath and all around and nothing between her and the ground but hope.

This fear laid her bare.

This fear would not leave and she could not seem to let it go.

It was as though all the chaos of childhood

sat inside this one

thing.

And the curious thing was, this woman wore wings

on a piece of coloured wool on her wrist.

And her friend said she thought they were angel wings.

And the woman said, "That's interesting! I never saw them that way…"

And then,

quite suddenly and without thinking, she said:

"They are

the idea of Flight."

And in that moment,

as she said those words,

Flight did not terrify her.

It represented

hope, and

possibility, and

trust, and

faith, and

love.

All the things Flight can be.

All the things that come when you let go of fear.

…

In less than two weeks, I am flying out to an island in the Pacific

to spread the ashes of my father.

A beautiful island

with people I love.

Which makes me scared (very)

and happy (very)

all at once.

It's complicated, isn't it?

I will fly over cloud and over sea

and the birds will follow and they will lead.

All of us

extraordinary.

All of us

soaring.

All of us

hoping.