I try to put on a brave face for my son, when I was a single mom as we fly to Missouri to see my sister and her family. And it works. He loves to fly. He wears his plastic wings like a badge.
And I do it again as a married Momma of 5. All buckled in and settled with snacks, I assure the 3 year old that it is going to be fun and to look out the window. I sigh heavily and nurse the baby, gripping the arm rest. I smile at the teenagers. I pray through the whole flight.
It never really gets easier to fly, but that one flight where he was by my side was the best flight I was ever on in my life. I snuggled up next to him, with the boy on the other side of me and I was at ease.
I still hate the closed in space, the inability to move around as I please or get of the plane when and if I want to because I might go crazy if I can't. But, it was different by his side.
It's the only time I loved to fly.
1 comment:
I never flew until I was almost out of college & then it was because of a mission trip. Terrifying then, but now, not so much. Great post.
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