The View is Just Fine From Here

Clutching both sides of the worn leather seat, my stomach began doing pirouettes, as the 16 passenger “Island Hopper’s” landing gear retracted and the small engine Cessna lurched upwards. The sounds emitted by the straining of the engine alternate between that of a feral cat in heat, to a mind numbing silence. In between the silence and the howling, the plane suddenly begins to vibrate, dipping and swaying - gyrating as if it were in the final heated moments of some forbidden ritual, voodoo dance.

Frantically looking across the aisle, three seats forward, my eyes searched for my ten year old son. Angry that we have been separated to begin with, I imagine him sitting there without me, paralyzed by fear, unable to even move, puzzled as to why I am not there to comfort him. A tremendous sense of guilt overcomes me.

Guilt triggered by memories, of how since he was age six, I have dragged him from one dare-devil escapade, to another. Para-sailing in Cozumel, diving off the bow of a 90 ft. wooden Schooner while sailing the Cyclades, doing a jungle tour flotilla on Wave Runners off the coast of the Riviera Maya, or flying through the air, hundreds of feet above the canopy while zip-lining in Belize.

Yet in spite of all our shared adventures, no place on earth exists that could fill my heart with such joy, love and excitement as this firefly catching, starfish throwing, inquisitive and daring little phenom, that I am blessed to call my son. Nothing compares to seeing this amazing planet, vicariously, through the eyes of my own child. As I ponder this sudden revelation, I am humbled.
Then slowly, I feel a tiny smile tugging at the corners of my mouth when he finally comes into my view. Slouching forward at a soft angle, head slightly tilted, with his hand resting lightly on his chin, I see my darling boy, snoring and sound asleep. An involuntary chuckle manages to escape my throat as the fear begins to subside and our plane descends. Our new adventure begins...