I used to fly. No, not in an airplane. My actual body would float through the air. I would jump from the ground and land in trees. At night when everyone else was sleeping, I would fly up and down the stairs. Then I would wake up. Flying was what I dreamed about every single night. I was obsessed with flying and convinced that if I tried hard enough I could.

One afternoon when my brothers were playing cops and robbers or some boyish game, I set out on my mission. I found the two largest leaves from some plant in our yard, climbed on our picnic table, spread my wings (arms), took off, and BAMMMM, landed on my butt. That just made me more determined…

I was four and fearless, the youngest of three and a prissy tomboy bent on keeping up with my two brothers. I also had an insanely wild imagination, obviously. Maybe one day I’ll share more of my flying adventures, but for now this Mommy has a hungry Ollie to feed.