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Leslie hates when I fly.
I'm in the air tomorrow. The Arkansas trip is back on. I'll be flying from Macon to Little Rock with my brother in his little Cessna 172.
I can't wait.
Flying for me is like a micro-vacation, especially in a small plane.
For me, there's something cathartic in giving someone (in this case, my brother) total trust with my wellness and safe-being for a few hours. Taking that responsibility off of my shoulders for a while, to paraphrase Forrest Gump, "...that's good! One less thing."
Don't get me wrong, I'm aware of all the potential hazards, but I don't let them bother me. When we're on the tarmac, running up the engine, and just the split second before our wheels leave the ground, a calm comes over me. That calm is really more of a letting go, a freedom from all the things that in the 'big picture' is nothing more than life's static.
I always ask/say to myself, "If it's my time? OK." Just for that little while, I am OK with anything that happens.
I wish I could live all of my life like that.
*Note to Leslie- I'll be in bed, with you, Friday night. Don't Worry! PS- No Byes!
5/19/2004 05:02:06 PM
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