There’s something intoxicating about the wild blue yonder. She hearkens one back to an earlier era and invites us into a world of adventure. From my earliest sentiments of playing Peter Pan, soaring in the night sky on pixie dust acumen to whimsical play in cardboard boxes as Amelia Earhart, flying solo over the Atlantic in my makeshift cardboard planes, the majestic skies have always been benevolent to my imaginings.
As I grew older, Sky’s heavenly and voluptuous vastness beckoned me with her siren song. I stumbled at her feet like a giddy admirer and longed to know more about her celestial body—to study, to understand, and experience her allure.
I wrote her heartfelt poems and stories, but our relationship wasn’t always smooth sailing. Sky was my punching bag of sorts when I would scream at her through my years of struggle with infertility and multiple losses. My outpouring of backyard confessions helped me to relate to Sky in multifaceted ways. Sometimes she’d have a monsoon effect because of my moods, but often her angelic garb washed away my tears with acceptance and love. She taught me effective communication —when I could not be in control, do the next best thing—skydive from 15,000 feet at 130 miles per hour. Rainbows and yellow butterflies became our call signs. Sky, by serendipitous fortune, helped me take steps toward healing. I was afforded opportunities to write articles for aviation journals, interview individuals who loved Sky, and helped me identify my renewed passion and appreciation for her and my eagerness to obtain my pilot’s license.
My most cherished memory that solidified the desire to learn to fly was taking a helicopter ride with my husband over Maui, soaking in the grandeur of Sky. As we sat enveloped in our aircraft, a symphony of loveliness befell our eyes. A stunning rainbow arched over a cascading waterfall. Below, in the limpid waters of the Pacific, we eavesdropped in awe as a breathtaking pod of humpbacks surrounded a mama whale and her calf.
It was a euphoric moment and one I will always be thankful to hold close to my heart. That memory fueled my desire to cross off another bucket list item—officially taking my first flying lesson in a Cessna-172 over Scottsdale, Arizona on my 39th birthday. My incredible instructor, Ara, at Sierra Charlie Aviation told me I was a natural. I was genuinely in my happy place – immensely cherished and it felt like a beloved nudge from on high. My sincerest thank you to those in the aeronautical field—their devotion, the difference they’ve made in aviation, and helping me find my way back to my kindred spirit, Sky.
Until next time…
