Flying

Maddie, 7^th grade

It was time. I swallowed the lump in my throat with great difficulty. It almost hurt. I took a deep breath, and tried to smile at my parents.

                They stood behind me, smiling and trying to encourage me to jump. I didn’t want to jump! The cliff below me was very steep, and who knew how long. It was my first real flight as a new baby bird. I wasn’t ready for this. My wings felt stiff and glued to my body. I would never be able to fly.

                We (meaning my parents and I) had tried so many things to get me up in the air. We started at small heights, only a few feet off the ground. I could do that. Then the ground that I was supposed to fly over got lower. And lower. And my parents told me to keep trying. I did okay. Most of the time.

                I managed to pass all the bad heights fairly well. And now I was on the final test to see if I was really ready to fly. To do what I want when I want. All my brothers and sisters had already passed these tests a long time ago; flying just came naturally to them. I wish I could say the same for me.

                I glanced over the ledge again. Oh, no. I felt sick. My stomach heaved. I felt dizzy. This wasn’t the first time.

                “It’s okay, take you’re time, darling! We’re in no rush!” My mother’s voice sailed over to my ear. I tried to believe what she just said. But my father ruined it in less than three seconds.

                “What do you mean, ‘Take you’re time?!’ I think we’ve waited long enough! It’s been a year. That’s not normal for a baby bird, Mary. I’m tired of waiting!” My father hissed under his breath.

                “Shh, he’ll hear you! I’m just trying to give him confidence! Let him do it on his own.” My mother scolded him. But I heard all they said. It made me want to cry. I squeezed my eyes shut. Focus. Focus. Think positive. It’ll all be over soon. Just jump. You can do it! You can do it! You can do it!

                That was a big fat lie.

                But I had to do it. Even if I knew I couldn’t. So it was time to fly. It was time to fly! 

                The little motivational speech I had just given myself seemed to work, and I jumped.

                Air whistled past my ears and with a big whoosh all the air left my lungs. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. And in the meantime I was falling, falling, falling. My stomach was suddenly up in my head; my heart in my toes. And it was really scaring me.

                My legs flipped this way then that in the air, as well as my wings. Oh, my wings! They were meant to help me fly, not to fall. But I was sure they were increasing my speed through the air. They stood pin-strait up and were not coming out of that position. I wished they would work. I didn’t have wings so they could freeze up and not move uselessly! I hated my wings. They were bad.

                But as I thought this, I tilted my head down and looked below me. My already pumping-quicker-than-usual heart burst. I couldn’t even see what was under me. The ground was miles away. Steep rock on the cliffs beside me continued to slide upward as I fell, and I realized that there must be this kind of rock at the bottom of the cliff as well. Sharp, tall, hard rocks. Rocks that was sure to kill me if I hit them. And I finally understood what kind of situation I was in. Life or death. It wasn’t important to start flying just to make my parents proud, it was important to start flying just to save my life!

                My brain suddenly realized what I had to do. Did I want to die? No! Then I had better start flapping those wings!

                And just like that, my wings broke from their trance and stretched out sideways. I slowed down; just a bit. And I then I brought them down. Then I brought my wings up. And down. And up. And down. And up. And down. And up.

                And I was flying.

                The ground stopped coming closer. The rough wind that had beaten me disappeared, as well as the frightened feeling deep in my gut. And for once, I was proud of myself. Because I was flying!

                I soared higher and higher, up and up and up. There was no limit! I laughed. How could I have ever doubted myself? I dodged the cliffs and tall rocks, flew over streams and lakes, danced over trees and mountains.

                I went everywhere! You couldn’t have stopped me for anything! But then the time came when I realized that my parents were still sitting, waiting for me. I wanted to see their faces when they saw me like this!

                I flew back over to my parents. They were clapping.

                “Yes! I knew you could do it!” cried my mother, jumping up and down.

                “That was great. You did perfect.” My father said while smiling widely.

                I landed next to them, and hugged them close.

                “I did it! I did it!” I shouted, too happy for words.

                “Oh, I’m so proud of you,” my mother laughed, then turned me to face her. “I think we should all go for a nice fly. What do you think? All of us, together?”

                I nodded.

“That would be great!” I cried.

“Come on!” My father said and flapped his wings. He lifted into the air, followed my mother. I smiled and raised my wings. Time to fly! I thought, but nothing happened. I frowned. It’s time to fly, wings! I thought angrily. Fly!

But I had forgotten how. And it was so far to the ground…

What’s wrong with you?! I yelled at myself. Two seconds ago you weren’t afraid of any heights! You didn’t have to think about flying, you just did it! What happened? Why aren’t you flying?!

But I didn’t know. And my brain suddenly was so scared again, and so were my wings. They were rooted to my side once more. NO! No, no, no! I thought. But it was no use. I didn’t know how to fly.

“Are you coming, honey?” called me mother several feet above me.

“Let’s go!” My father shouted, even higher then her.

“I…I…,” I didn’t know how to say it. “I CAN’T!” I screamed and plopped down on the ground.

“Oh, no,” said my father.

“What?” my mother asked.

“I don’t know how to do it anymore!” I cried, and hung my head.

My father groaned above me.

“No, not again,” he sighed. My mother was speechless.

I had a feeling it was going to be a while until I ever learned really how to fly. But I wasn’t going to give up. No way. This was only the start. I smiled. Because I knew I was going to make progress. I was going to learn to fly. Just watch me.

The End