Today was an exciting, exhilerating, terrifying, thrilling sort of day. And very thought provoking, too. Our 15 year old daughter and 17 year old son had the chance to go flying in a tiny Cessna. Now, it’s not as though these planes are foreign to us, as we have lived across the farm field from a small, private airport for the past 18 years, so we see/hear these planes flying 24/7. When our son was a few months old, I remember hearing the familiar buzzing of the planes overhead while working on the computer. My mother had taken Ben for a walk in his stroller, and as we have no sidewalks, they were walking the shoulder of our rural road- when that buzzing sound stopped dead. Maybe because it was so familiar, I recall stopping typing in mid sentence and listening, and then I heard that soul shattering BOOM and my heart literally skipped a beat…less than a hundred yards from where our son and mother were walking a Cessna had gone down into a pond. I have never screamed like I heard myself scream for my husband to find them-NOW! Anyway, my family was fine, but tragically the pilot perished, so as we sat at the airport today waiting for our babies turn to fly, this all came rushing back at me. And to my husband too, I will add, for we both drew deep cleansing breaths as we watched them trot out to the plane.
The kids were really excited to get to experience this awesome treat, and we were thrilled for them; but something strange overcomes a parent when they are forced to sit and watch their offspring embark on such an excurssion. You love to share in the thrill, but every instinct in you screams “don’t put them in danger! Hold them close, protect them, keep them in a little, safe bubble…” It’s weird and confusing and scary.
So, as they climbed aboard, strapped on their seatbelts and we watched them taxi the runway, I found myself saying a prayer and holding my breath for those 20 minutes-not literally of course, but it felt like I did! And as I watched their plane return and glide to a gentle landing, I was up and out of my seat, jogging to meet them halfway up the walkway, their faces radiant and both were nearly skipping so excited to tell us every second of their flight over our house, around Lake Geneva and past their school in Woodstock. It was exhilerating for us, as parents to hear the joy in their voices. And I realized how blessed we are to share these moments with them. Soon it will be stories of Culinary School and College. Girlfriends, boyfriends, fiances and spouses. And all to soon – kids of their own.
So, as I watched them fly away in that tiny plane, I realized sooner than later it will be a flight greater than 20 minutes in a Cessna. It will be our babies flying the nest, and I know we need to cherish, relish and allow them to experience everything possible in the time they are still ours, at home with us, and we’re able to share their life’s great moments with them.
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