Lift

Today we went to the airport.  It's a little airport, as airports go, quiet and subdued and windy and warm.

I learned about wheel chocks and fairings and the historical significance of wind direction and green-on-the-right and red-on-the-left.  I learned that you steer with your feet. And we held hands and walked around all the planes and I felt the young spring sun jump up from the tarmac and call us along( like a lover.  (And I imagined how hot I'll look in my new prescription aviator sunglasses). And he explained things to me like the purpose of windsocks and "5 miles to the runway" and "entering the pattern on a 45" and why he doesn't really like "tail draggers". And I looked at him again the way I did at first and I remembered this very important thing.

And I thought about how he has loved it for so much longer than me and how I wish I could do something to make it true.  And I shoved all my schoolwork-waiting-at-home to the back of my mind and engaged with the years of his life he has spent helping other people achieve theirs.  And then ... I stopped. And stood, smiling, at the absurdity of it all and looking up into the wide blue, I prayed that God will, indeed, do this Thing. I love him! And so I just asked. God, after all, pilots our hearts ... his and mine.
He always has.

And, quite unexpected, intoxication ... conceived. Of such extravagant asking.