Closing my eyes, I could envision a plane flying in and out of the white clouds dotting the sky. The plane was an old style biplane with a seat in the open air to feel the wind rush against my face. I was both inside and outside of the plane, flying it and observing it being flown.
The land below was a tapestry of fields. Different shapes and sizes made them look like a quilt of beautiful design. I watched myself rolling and dipping the plane, both rising higher and falling lower. It was a ballet in the deep blue around me. I alone was the dancer and I could feel my Father’s eyes upon me.
I listened to music softly playing. I could hear it as a choreographed complement to my every maneuver. The beauty was indescribable and looking into the horizon I could see no boundaries, only more sky to explore.
Opening my eyes, I was once more before my journal holding my pen. The sensation of flying lingered and reaching up my hand, I could feel the wetness upon my cheeks. I longed to go back again into the depths of that blue horizon….