Lake Dreams

For some reason, just as I am about to post this poem, I am reminded of a particular flight in the little Cessna, back home from a meeting in Chicago. Bob has just returned from a two week training with former Top Gun trainers in the Arizona desert (and has upside down photos of him co-piloting a jet fighter to prove it).

There is brilliant sun and very high pure white clouds above us. We are flying over Lake Erie and about an hour from home. Bob asks me if I know what G-force is. I say, oh yeah, it's like when you are on a rollercoaster and you go flying down one of those incredibly high hills. Yeah, he says, something like that. He asks if I want to experience it. I say, well, just do a little something.

So he rocks the plane from side to side a little. I'm in the back with my headphones on and oxygen cannula in my nose (always a fun time) and he's enjoying freaking me out a little. But I like it. It feels like we are in a boat when he rocks the plane like that. It doesn't scare me. So he does it more, and I feel a little tiny bit scared, glancing down to the lake. But it's a rush and I still am liking it. He does it more. Oh oh...ok! Bob asks if I want him to flip the plane over. UH NO! No no. That's quite alright.

No. Just demonstrate a little (no such thing) G-force for me. So he noses the plane almost straight up and then BOOM! He releases the throttle (or whatever you call it) and we plummet to the lake below. I am out of my seat (held down though by the belt) and screaming "Stop Bob Stop ok ok ok Bob Bob". It lasted for maybe 5 seconds max, but it felt like an hour. What a rush. It scared the daylights out of me but I laughed for 15 minutes after.

The next day I told the "girls" at the office all about it, still giddy. All they could do is shake their heads and say "You two are CRAZY!" Yeah, maybe :) The last time I flew with him, he offered to let me fly the plane on the way home. That time I did freak out, because he didn't warn me while we were still on the ground so I just couldn't do it. I regret that now, I suppose. I miss the plane sometimes. Miss flying. It was the best thing. Just the best.

Here's the poem that reminded me of flying:

Lake Dreams

You soar over me
like a flock of geese
migrating toward temperate waters
in my dream.

I lay back
beneath the path of you
my other half,
caressing heaven
with your paintbrush hands.

Only need to wait
for what is us to come

lake and sky merging
your atmosphere my heart
my surface your lungs.