I would fly.
When asked what superhero power I would choose, my answer is always flying. Sure, invisibility would be cool, reading people’s thoughts might have its benefits, and laser vision may be a fun party trick. But flying of my own volition anywhere I want to go? Now that’s a super skill I can get behind. Of course, I’ve never considered the context—the wind chill, bugs in my teeth, bird poop, and the like. But still. Flight. Cool.
I always assumed, too, that the truth of the matter is that I really can fly. Somehow, someway, I must be able to lift from the ground and just glide along above the surface, soaring upwards and then dipping down to the treetops. I do it all the time in my dreams…so why not? I can envision it; I feel it. It must be so. “Birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. Let’s do it. Let’s…”…fly.
Right this minute, I wish someone with great wish-granting power would ask me the question. What super power do you choose? And I am ready with my answer. “I want to fly,” I will say, as I have rehearsed so often.
Only I won’t. I won’t say that at all. Because today my mind is occupied by one thought. My child. My child who is not here. And I think of all the moms and dads in the world whose hearts are shattered like mine, who struggle to breathe like I do. And the super power I want with every fiber of my being is for all of us to hold our children once more. For all of us to hear our child’s voice and laughter. For all of us to have a heart that feels whole again.
And if we had that…if we could feel that…then, my God, we would all be flying.
