Wings

white airplane
Photo by Juhasz Imre on Pexels.com

A jet streamed across the sky, leaving a path of exhaust behind it, destination known to its passengers, but not to the common eye below.

Wings.

I was hanging 100 white cloth diapers on a clothesline by 8 a.m. every day when my children were babies.

Days consisted of rising at 5 a.m. (only way to drink coffee without company, smiles), preparing food, washing dishes and clothes, cleaning the house, bathing the children, reading to the children, answering their questions, hugging them of course, soothing boo-boos and breaking up skirmishes between them from time to time, organizing our home, grocery shopping, and more.

At that time, we lived in St. Augustine, across from the airport, the train track, and a noisy highway.

A single-wide mobile home, with no air conditioning, on a pile of sand in the Florida heat was all we could afford for our large family.

The only way to keep it cool was to prop open windows and run two box fans for as long as we could in the evening. The neighborhood was not safe enough to leave them open all night. Eventually, my grandparents bought us a little air conditioner, which only really cooled the kitchen.

Those were hard times.

Wings.

I looked up at the sky often, perhaps as a way to escape my daily struggles to “just do life,” in poverty.

The airport became a portal to everywhere. Who flew in, who took off, what air show was going on (you have not truly lived until one of the Blue Angels flies just above your head while you are hanging clothes! Loud and fast, they raised the hair on my head, and I was like, wow!)

Wings.

A passenger jet, high above, seemed like a silver needle, threading its way from one end of the horizon to another.

Wings.

I hate to fly.

Boarding a plane bound for Rhode Island for vacation one year, long after my kids grew up, I took one look at the pilot, which calmed my nerves.

Former military, it was obvious. His shoes shined, and so did his hat. He was young. We took off and landed like he was accustomed to launching from an aircraft carrier. Straight up and straight down.

Butterflies.

Make me happy.

So do birds.

Planes are fun to watch.

And fireflies? Best of all.

Wings.

The ability to fly above your situation. To pursue a higher goal. A change of scenery.

My thought for the day.

Where are you headed?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s