itsa bird, itsa plane...no its just an overactive imagination.
I remember being 8 ,9 or so? I wanted to fly! Not tree squirrel flying but the Superhero kind of flying. Where you’d take a running leap, catch air and with one clenched fist punching through the air to go fight bad guys and save pretty girls.
Practice, I had to practice. At least that much I knew. I took a towel for my cape and tied it around my neck. I got my tennis shoes on for traction and figured I better wear a helmet, just in case my engines sputtered. And a parachute. ..I needed a parachute, but a pillowcase would work.
I put the helmet on and everything went dark. I couldn’t see, my little pea-head was wayyy too small so I stuffed some rags in there and then I couldn’t figure out how to fasten it so I tied a knot. Perfect fit.
I climbed up on the fence and then hoisted myself to the shed roof . The helmet kept falling forward and turning and spinning. I figured it’d be ok… I was on top of the world on the roof. I stared off to the distant horizon, almost to the end of the block. All clear, I was ready!
I took the edge of the pillowcase in both hands. I’d raise it over my head if I needed it… and I practiced with my pillowchute as I backed my paces away from the edge. Everything check…it’s a go… and I RAN !
The helmet turned sideways on my head…I couldn’t see!
And then I tripped …and fell off the roof.
KA-THUD !
Cant breathe, still cant breathe, STILL CANT BREATHE… ok, air…breathing.
The next jump was wayyyy better.
I took the helmet off…
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