The Pilot Afraid to Fly

Not a cloud in the sky

     They say every cloud has a silver lining, but as I look up at the clouds I see not a silver lining but a wonderful fluff of cotton I wish to explore further, but to fulfill my dreams would include the inevitable. I am pretty much tethered to the ground by nothing more than my own sub conscience. Pitiful, pitiful being the only word to describe myself. Some would say I am being too hard on myself some would consider me to have a low self esteem but they just don’t understand. I Daniel Owens am afraid to fly. The mere thought of a plane makes every muscle in my body tense up. Why is it such a big deal? My father was the world’s greatest pilot and being the only child on this earth of his I am pretty much obligated to follow in his footsteps.

     It was March of 2000 and the weather was a bit questionable but my father Michael Owens was determined to fly. The orphanage had just been bombed and he was flying every child he could to the only hospital in the area 70 miles away. He managed to save just about everyone, but on the flight back to land the aircraft one big bolt of lightning came. The white fiery glow lit up the sky creating a false daylight. Although it was traveling 3,700 miles per second, it seemed to move in slow motion the long rod of lightning barely skimming the side of the left wing.

     Time seemed to stand still and for a split second it looked as if the lighting had just missed the aircraft, but we found out we were terribly wrong when the aircraft took a spinning nose dive straight into the runway. My dad deployed the landing gear but the plane was positioned in such a way that it was almost vertical, there was no way to land it, the only option was to except the fact that the plane was going to crash, but that’s not what he did. He ejected just before the plane hit and his parachute caught. He plummeted towards the ground where he laid motionless. Little did he know that he would end up in the very hospital that just moments ago he had taken the orphans. He made it to the hospital but there was nothing they could do. The line went flat, everyone started to cry, everyone but me. I was only three months old sitting in my mother’s arms as if it were just any other day.

     I get up and brush the grass off of me as I head inside. I don’t remember when I started, but every morning before school I come out and look at the clouds, some days I see planes and cant help but look away. I imagine them taking a downward nosedive and crashing right in the backyard. I brush my teeth and head out the door. As I walked to school I did my homework that I had forgotten to do the night before. I always use the excuse that there is too much on my mind but to be completely honest, there is always too much on my mind. Its been almost 13 years since my father passed away but the sight still lingers in my mind like the nasty residue left on dirty dishes.Of course I didn't see it happen because at the time I was a baby but I've seen it one too many times on T.V. It seems as if the news replays it just when I start to heal, reopening the gashes that have been set in my memory.

     As I near Willsburg Middle School I take a deep breath and silently pray to myself. Please, Please, Please allow me to go through this day without being asked about becoming a pilot.  I know it sounds like a ridiculous prayer but my mother always tells me there is no such thing as a silly prayer. The thing is no one at my school knows that I am completely terrified of planes not to mention that I have never even been in a plane myself. I open my eyes and walk up the steps as the deafening shrill of the bell blares through the old but loud speakers of our school. I'm late again.