Thursday, July 23, 2009

... in having new eyes.

"Hey, Emma, your ride is here." Dad called from the driveway.

I grabbed my camera from the table and ran outside. The corn saplings bowed in the draft. I snapped picture after picture. Noah's friend Brett dropped two feet to the ground and walked up the field toward me.


His father raised the helicopter a little higher and made for the open lawn at the edge of the field. I stepped back, a little unnerved by the whirling blades. Pete crooked his finger at me. I ran forward, ducking reflexively in fear of the blades.

"I'm going to take you into a hover and see how you do."

We hovered just a few minutes before rising above the trees. I wasn't scared. I was exhilarated. I'd been on a hot air balloon trip. This was nothing like that. The ride was smoother. The helicopter pivoted in the headwind.


Pete had taken the doors off, so when he turned above my friend's to let me take a picture there was nothing but air between me and the grass below.

We flew over my old elementary school, over my high school and finally over my father's office. Later, after we landed Pete said, "I felt like I was in an episode of 'This is Your Life' with Emma."

As we landed, I felt like a movie star. My parents and grandparents were standing in the back yard. My mom snapped picture after picture. The grass flattened beneath us. The rotors slowed and returned to the visible spectrum.



I took off my headset and unhooked my harness. My feet touched solid ground. It was the first time since reaching my parents house that I really felt like I was home.

I leave you today with a quote from Milan Kundera, "Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No. Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves."