“Mom, I didn’t recognize you.” was what he was saying. My oldest was referring to a recent event where I was nervous before a “performance” and I said, “Everyone gets nervous, sometimes, like they feel they are falling, like they are not sure how they will land.” This is where he looked at me with such surprise. What he said, next, is a blur. It is a blur because the realization was so surreal. What he said, I can’t recall, exactly. It was something like, “You know you have always floated with aim, as you have always said. Don’t forget how you fly. You are like no one I know and you have open arms that grab those who truly are falling, truly are failing, and you bring them safely home. Don’t be nervous that you aren’t going to get to fly, Mom.” I know it was more Jake-like in speech, I just remember how he reminded me of how he knows me. How I am. I said to him, “I knew I could fly, but, for a scary moment, I thought, last week, that if I didn’t help others know that about me, that I would be failing you, not just falling. Failing. I know now that that could never happen. I will always float with aim. I will always be in the clouds helping those who jumped without a parachute, who forgot they could fly, who need to grow wings. That is what I am here for and what I will always do, no matter where I land. No matter where I land.
Photo from Experience Human Flight video here