It was a still day. The clouds drifted lazily. Unconcerned about the world below. The ground was still as it always is. It wasn’t silent though. The deafening roar would have driven most people away. But to him, it was the sound of life itself. Pure, undiluted, fresh. Resolute and uncompromising. Passionate and focused.
He felt the white blade like surfaces softly with his fingers. They curved gently. Stretched out like two sun touched scythes, aching to slice the blue. He looked at the markings and the delicate black lettering on the side. The name suited her. A wisp among the clouds, floating on a dream. She was beautiful. Beguiling. Mysteriously. Enticing. Floating on a dream. Only it wasn’t a dream anymore, she was right in front of him. And the blue was above – waiting – calling soundlessly. He sat quietly, his mind wandering along with his eyes. First to the bewildering array of dials and switches around him. Then upwards again. They always turned upwards eventually. Drawn by the blue. It called again. He was the only one it called to. No one else. And now he could answer…
They didn’t understand. They just lived their lives each day, one day at a time. No. they didn’t actually live. It was an existence. Nothing more. They looked at the sky everyday too, but they never saw it. It followed them everywhere, but they never felt it. It was right there above them, but it meant nothing. They never looked up with a silent smile. Life went on. Existence persisted.
He eased her upwards. The carpeted green below melted into a blur. The ground ceased to exist. Playing the pilot’s game of balancing the horizon, he watched it dip and turn. It was strangely satisfying.
Flight. A simple word. Many more used to describe it. But words on a string meant nothing. Nothing unless you smiled every time you stood at the window and looked up, and watched the clouds and the shapes they formed; the birds – the way they adjusted their wings to ride the air currents; the sun – trying to push through the blanketing clouds.
And the sky….
The sky was never quite the same. It seemed the same. But no… look there – at that cloud. It wasn’t there before. The wind. Where was it coming from now? Southwest.
And the blue. Shades of blue wandered past his eyes, meandering about aimlessly. He wandered too, ignoring the little needle in the three inch glass circle in front of him. Compasses meant nothing to him in this world of white wings. He followed the wind. It led him northeast, so he flew northeast.
He was young. Overwhelmed. Confused even, by the same elation that seemed to envelop him. He didn’t understand it. It was all so complicated. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t. He felt happy. Yes, that was it. No other words were needed.
So he flew.
And the skies kept calling, and he kept calling. He never faltered. He never hesitated. He was home. Sky bound and free. Silent brushstrokes smeared the blue canvas, but left no trace of their passage. How many wings had these skies seen? Sliced, twisted and torn through. An effortlessly flowing blue. Not a single scar from the many knife- edges it has experienced. It was alive. She was alive too. She was an extension of him now. She felt him think, and responded accordingly. Neither would have been there without the other. They were flying!!
The wind seemed to die. It was no longer with them. It would return soon enough, he was certain, but for that brief instant they were truly alone among the clouds. No wind. And for the first time, she hesitated.
Like a child suddenly left without a playmate, she grumbled. She rocked indignantly. She wouldn’t go on without him. He coaxed her. Spoke to her gently. He didn’t lose his temper, knowing that would be futile. Instead, he eased her upwards again, reminding her of the clouds, and the sun, and all that was there in the skies- the blues….
She refused to listen. They drifted in a downward spiral, as he tried to pull her upwards. The ground entered his reality again, the verdant green below attaining a menacing hue. He was still strangely sangfroid as the white winged plane crashed into a field not far away from where it had taken off.
He ran to her and picked her up. A broken wing. A bent nose. The delicate wood had splintered. A few minutes with glue and paint would fix that. He held her carefully in his hands and cared her home.
Tomorrow was another day…
