“You landed it all by yourself you know.”
“I am sure that’s not the case.”
” Oh yes, you did most of the work – all I did was talk you though it.”
It was the the very last day of my holiday. In a few hours I would be going through security for the last time, sitting on a plane, returning to London. It was a perfect day – the perfect day. Brilliant azure blue skies, wisps of clouds, and glorious gloriously hot sunshine, beating down with all the heat of a fever. And as we drove to the airfield, sitting comfortably in the silence, I couldn’t grasp that the end of my travels was imminent. But I had one more journey to make that day though I didn’t quite know it yet.
“Would you like to fly?”
The moment stood still; the day was was holding its breath. My heart sped up . Can I? Should I? Really?? Oh, yes please.
Next thing I knew, I was climbing into the cockpit, trembling with nerves, excitement warring with fear, eyes shining, a grin growing wider and wider. And we taxied and took off.
At this point I could write about so many things. The exhilaration I felt when dipping the nose or banking to the right. The thrilling feel of sweat gently dripping down the back of my neck, a result of nervousness and excitement. The strange echoey nature of talking and listening to each other via the mike. Or the absolute sereneness of being in flight, with nothing on the horizon, only sky sky sky. And the bliss of peacefulness, of quiet.
An hour later, I knew that my holiday was complete. I had spent the last few weeks travelling around Canada and America. I was totally happy and comfortable in my own company. I had used train, plane and automobile, never actually believing that I had planned, saved and put my dream into reality and there I was living it. I was living in the moments life was giving to me. And I was grateful.
If you can be anything in this world, be you. Now, where did I put that information about driving lessons??
