Flying A Plane

Jack Reynolds, Staff Writer

There is so much to believe up here, an unspoken certainty, a persistent dream. I levitate in this sky, buoyant above the world that I came from, the one to which I will return. This is my dream ‒ to remain above the stratocumulus blanket of the earth, white and golden as it billows triumphantly in the light of the sun. The engine off, I wait in near-silence, punctuated subtly by the whistling of the wind around my enclosed cockpit. My terminal descent quickly approaches, but I long for more time. To witness the last of this beauty. To appreciate something fully that I will never see again. Here I am. Here I wish to stay.