I Believe I Can Fly

Isn't it lovely that when we're young we feel that anything is possible? We can and will do anything we want? Tess is 6-going-on-7 and still sees everything through a magical lens of endless possibilities and opportunities.
The older children - at 16 and 14 have become rather more cynical and realistic. Although I'm sure they both still have a 'life is out there for the taking' attitude.

Tess picked up two large seagull feathers on the beach today and flapped them. When she didn't immediately take off I pointed out that seagulls have the added bonus of wings.
'But these are my wings,' she insisted, waving her feathers.
'Ah,' I said, 'but seagulls have more than two feathers. They'd never take off if they only had two feathers.'

We walked along the shore line, just after high tide, looking at dead fish and fishing ropes with shells attached, and all the while Tess carried on collecting feathers. When she had a good bunch in each hand, she ran, flapped and jumped her way down the beach, waiting for the golden moment when the wind would pick her up and she would fly along the beach. When that didn't work she then suggested she should climb some rocks and leap off them.
She doesn't give up easily.
I didn't want to stamp on her dreams but I had to admit I thought it was too risky and there was a good chance she could flop to the ground and get hurt.

Luckily she wasn't too downhearted. She left the feathers on the sand and ran off. She given it her best shot, after all. I suspect she still believes she can fly and will probably have another go some day. If you've met Tess you'll know what I mean.
'Impossible' is just a noise people make when they are getting in the way of her plans. She rarely believes what people tell her if it's not what she wants to hear.

Was I like that? I guess I was. I probably still am...
To a point.

But there's something about being forty-two and witnessing another year go whistling by that makes you realise that not as much is possible as you thought it was.

There's something I have to do in a minute that makes me sad, in a selfish way.
I'm going to have to admit to someone that I'm not what they think I am - that I'm just a 42-year-old housewife, mother and do-er of bits and pieces from Devon.
I don't regret what I've done so far. Where I am. How I've lived my life. I just wish I'd managed to squeeze in a few more of the possibilities and opportunities.

My dreams of ever flying are fading fast.