Recurrency

It has been the same as far back as I can remember. Even though I spend many conscious moments attempting to force my mind to travel in this beautiful way, I am never able to recreate the flight...not in words, not in ink, not in thought. But, I have learned a day’s dream can fuel a nighttime’s tryst.

And so, it is always late at night and always when I am most hopeful that it begins. At the bottom of the stairs I stand and wait. The moment is always the same. I take a deep breath, and then with my arms outstretched, I lean forward. The lift is immediate. I glide easily up the staircase, out into to the open expanse of the room, and then out the front door.

Once outside, I rise even further and the world below me becomes smaller and I become bigger. I am always alone while I fly. I am light. Flight is effortless and I am unencumbered. I am fearless. And, as I acknowledge that wonderful feeling I become aware that I will soon wake up and it will be over. I will return to my feet with gravity’s hold on me and the notion that I can accomplish anything as long as I stand.






p.s. my pockets are lined with holes big enough to hold coins and small enough to sift dirt.