The Wind Beneath My Wings

When we were children, we dreamed of flying.  We had wings on our feet, our minds, and our hearts.

Somewhere along the line, those wings were clipped:  in school, in the teenage years, in the workplace, under the weight of responsibility and loss of innocence.
The rebel teen years seem to be a time when the human claims they are trying to "Find themselves" "Discover who they are."  Maybe, they are simply trying to find where they dropped their wings.

When I was young, I had wings.  I soared in my dreams, high, and higher, and higher than the tallest sky-scraper.

In my waking hours I would fly home off the school-bus imagining I had feathers and could feel the wind caressing them.  I was a strong creature of flight that could grasp all of my closest friends from school in one hand and pull them upwards with me into the heights.

When I was in Kindergarten, or maybe it was the first grade, my parents thought to fix my wingless back and made me wings out of cardboard paper.  They were black wings, but they fit me perfectly.

I flew all around the yard with my big black wings.  They matched my hair.

Some years later in High school, my wings dropped off.  I've had one or two dreams since in which I made it off the ground a little ways.... but that's been a while.

And then a couple of weeks ago, I found someone that I had known of- albeit very little about- for about a year.  A few mornings afterward, when I rose from my bed, I found several feathers sticking out of my pajamas.  Laughing to myself, I sprang through the day.  My wings are growing back.  Nothing can hold me down now!

You may be an earth-bound creature who shed his or her wings in those teenage years.  But if you're a gryphon like I, they'll come back to you one day.  They'll bear you up through every storm, over every valley, through every trial.  They'll become one with you.



Signed,
Your Wings