A Flier, and a Fear

Life has a way of imitating life. On a recent family adventure I opted in though I had said I never would and suspended hundreds of feet in the air my fears were pretty plain to all. Grey, on the other hand...Indomitable and extreme athlete in all arenas already at age 1.5 rejoiced. I am sure he believed that he had willed us to our present height by his own desire. As soon as the flier (the highest in the world) came into view, still several blocks away, he began begging in languages none of us speak, but all of us understand that he wanted it, and badly. Gratified by our willing obedience we relented and put ourselves into the hands of technology and God, and climbed the skies.

 Myself, feeling quite human, could not resist the urge to ponder the thrilling principles of Gravity and so I clung to the bench in the middle, knowing that leaning out over the glass walls could speed those timeless principles of falling, if only slightly. But Grey, true to his word (loosely translated) adored everything, even the rubber seal around those glass walls was inspected and pulled away by him.

The ocean he squealed about, the cars he begged to hold, the sky itself he gloried in even as more and more of it separated us from the earth he prostrates himself upon many times a day.  Trying to get closer to the drama and thrill of the heights he laid down and scooted himself into the wall of glass, so no part of him was on the opaque portion of the floor; that portion that was so dear to my sanity. 

I and my doctrine of Gravity sat in the middle or squatted (we learn this in Asia or die of shame) with an outstretched hand clinging to his shirt. Silly, but every fiber of my being told me I had to, my grasp might be his only salvation. I clung. Thanks to those engineers and maintenance staff oiling the cogs and replacing the screws, Gravity never intervened and we survived. As we again stepped on to the beautiful, but admittedly less grandiose tourist scenes like Popeyes, Subway and McDonalds, I breathed and gave myself a 5 for participation.

And then my mind, able now to function, thought of the Flier that is life with teenagers. Lofty conversations, grandiose ideas, amazing potential, near falling from great heights and oh the heights! While we pray they can defy gravity, beg that the earth remain stable and for the cogs in the wheel to remain true.  And often, I sit in the middle, fear of what might be and grasp at their shirt tails, thinking my hand might be the only one to catch them when it all implodes. And confident my hand can keep them. 

Hmmm... but underneath I want the faith to let go, stand up against that glass wall with them, and peer at the majesty, Remark on the beauty and revel in the experience of defying gravity. Grey's right, The sky is even more amazing from these reckless heights, I just need the heart to savor it.  And you know, those two teenagers, and one who thinks he is, are pretty fun when I stop clinging and let them walk upright.

I am Boy

My sister likes pretty dresses and fluffy flowers and bright candy. That's nice...
But I love digging deep into the earth with my toe and feeling the rough dirt clinging to my toes,
The zmmmmzmmmmm music of weed eaters, and sawing, and drilling,
The schschsch flash of the street cleaners brush left too low and sparking as it passes,
The arf arf of the dog whose owner can't get him to stand still,
The hum and majesty buildings at the wharf sliding along streets of metal,
And the clang, bang, crash of the metal crate as it dangles in the air, a little toy box and crashes into place with a thousand others,
The puff of hot coming out of large, loud trucks as they whir by,
And the brbrbrbrbrbr of the motorcycles whizzing through the lanes.
I love
The tickle of a dozen ants as I squish them in my hands,
The slime of lotion all over my tummy,
The goo of yogurt as it drips down my chin,
The Ssss Sssss of the sidewalk sweeper.
The taste of insect repellent, fake leather, vitamin capsules and foam,
The crane and excavator and buildings being born and buildings being torn.
It's so fun to see
The shock on mom's face as I chuck a large book at her her, and hear
The roars of laughter when I wipe my food on the wall.
The shout of surprise when I scale new heights, or burrow into new holes.
I live for
The feel of almost-dying when I climb up on the shoe cabinet to jump into the couch,
The thrill of the fall when I dive off the back of the chair,
And even the ouch of pain when my head hits harder than I intended,
The way every different object falls so differently when thrown off the eleventh floor
And the way my sister objects when she has to go retrieve her socks or shoes...again.
The echo of my loudness as it catapults around the room,
And the people who come running to see what all the ruckus is.
You may call me crazy, wild, hyper, urban, gross, in-poor-taste or dirty.
But mostly I am Boy.

Inspired by Grey and recently watched documentary, Raising Cain