Airborne

 While cleaning out the garage, I came across a plastic airplane model, the very one I used to teach my son to fly all those years ago. It came in a box with a body, wings, and tail, which easily slid together and were ready for flight. I vividly remember watching him struggle to carry it to the open field, stumbling multiple times because it was almost as big as he was.

I showed him how to hold and throw it, but each attempt ended in disaster as it crashed repeatedly. Then I had an idea. I called him over and took the two wings, duct-taping each one to his arms. I explained that birds learn to fly through trial and error, so he should run as fast as he could, flapping his arms until he became airborne. I told him that once he mastered this, he would better understand how the model plane flew. 

Before long, he got the hang of it and began running across the field, flapping his arms with all his might. Just then, my wife arrived and asked what in the world he was doing. "He's learning the miracle of flight," I replied, and she held back her laughter, giving our son a thumbs-up.

I must admit, after about an hour of trying to fly, I was ready to call it a day and ask him to come back. Then the unthinkable happened: he let out a scream, proclaiming, "I’m flying!" And sure enough, his feet were a few inches off the ground—if only for a minute or less—but he was indeed flying. His little arms were flapping like the propeller of an airplane, and when he came to a stop, he wore a smile as big as Texas.

Without wasting a moment, he grabbed the model plane and dashed onto the field, running as fast as the wind. The plane soared higher and higher, passing him by before coming to rest in one piece. “I did it! I flew it!” he exclaimed, laughter spilling from his lips like that of a happy child.

We still share that story whenever we have the chance. As for my son, well, he eventually figured it out, but he always enjoyed being the first to tell the tale of his winged flight.

Mike 2025