I wasn't born a pilot. I wasn't born a mechanic. Yet, I love wrenching, dig working on my plane. Its a sweet achievement that I can't always put to words properly. When I look at my dirty nails I smile...grease, grime...
I didn't dream of flying when I was young. It grew in me slowly, surely and eventually I became a pilot. I worked hard for it and wouldn't change my life's path.
He encouraged me and supported me, he wanted me by his side and I wanted to be no where else. Here we are 32 years this year and going strong.
In our intimate conversations, he will tell me the things that I can't share, we have "our" conversations, whether they are vocal or quietly felt. He is my true course, my loving partner who led me towards my destiny.
The ease of this man, allows me to revel in my wildness, my independence. He never realized his love of this 'flying' bug would grow in his woman so strong, sometimes we laugh I have surpassed his passion...I live and dream often to be an eagle. He understands my love of flight, he understands my need to inspect my plane solo, he gets it.
I hunger to be in the sky hanging from the edge of the clouds, to sweep my wings through the clouds...closing my eyes I giggle as I come out the other side...shush, its our secret, ok?
Often we depart from our home field at the same time and if we see each other, we chase, we dive, we parallel park in the air...his pigtail flying behind and when I see him turn his face towards me and give me "that" smile...all mine.
I am the luckiest woman in the world to be able to share the same passion he has...its a dream come true.
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