The other day, he tied a red bandanna around his neck. "Mommy, look at my cape! Now I can go fly." Then he went bounding out into the yard. It was a windy day and his 'cape' fluttered out behind him. He closed his eyes, faced the wind, held up his arms like Superman, and jumped...and jumped...and jumped.... Then, muttering about needing more lift, he tried jumping off the back steps. Eventually, he came inside, tears running down his face, grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. "Mommy, how come I can't fly with my cape? Look...see? It doesn't work." He demonstrated. Then he looked up at the red-tailed hawk that happened to be hovering over head and said, "Mommy, I want to fly like that." I gathered him into my lap, dried his tears, and we watched the hawk together, talking about how much fun it must be to soar like a hawk. "Some day, Monkey Boy.... Some day when you are a little older, we'll find a way to get you some flying lessons if that is what you really want." He went to sit in the grass and watch the hawk some more as I went in to make supper. "I am going to fly someday, Mommy." I know you will, my sweet boy, I know you will.
I am the eagle, I live in high country,
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky,
I am the hawk and there's blood on my feathers,
But time is still turning, they soon will be dry,
And all those who see me, and all who believe in me,
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly!
Come dance with the west wind,
And touch all the mountain tops,
Sail o'er the canyons, and up to the stars,
And reach for the heavens, and hope for the future,
And all that we can be, not what we are.
— John Denver
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