Standing at the top of the Mount Cannon near Franconia Notch on a warm July day in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, I experienced a disconcerting urge to leap into space and fly. What would it be like, to be swept by an updraft, to circle with the eagles? To gently spiral, looking for lift, meandering over valley and peak? My tummy turned. I backed away from the edge.
Moments later, two gliders rushed silently over my head. My mind climbed into the cockpit, living my fantasy.
We chased each other, criss-crossing, two birds playing.
The thermals were favorable, and we climbed higher.
Ever aware of our mortal limitations, we kept one eye on the airport to the north in Franconia.
Do you ever wonder, if you stepped out, would you fly?
1 comment:
I know this feeling exactly, down to the queezy stomach when you look down the mountain. I was in the Blue Ridge Mountains, absolutely gorgeous. Melitta Vahalik
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