Hold My Hand

For years, I've been terrified to fly. Well, more like since I've had kids and saw footage of a plane go down in the ocean off the coast of Oxnard, California, I've been terrified to fly. At one point, I could barely make it through a flight without crying. Silly fear!

This has resulted in a ritual. On take off, I reach over and grab Hottie Husband's hand. I hold on tight and pray that somehow this giant man made thing of plastic and metal and gadgets and engine parts will do the impossible and stay in the air. And it always does.

This past week, we flew out to California for a short vacation to visit family. When we lifted off in Missoula, I sat next to Little Bear as he said- Airpane go up,up, up in da sky! 

I watched him look out the window in wonder. I watched as he smiled at the lift off. I talked to him about  the wings and the clouds and the shoosh, shoosh of the airplane. I didn't think of crashing, or dying, or let fear stomp on the moment. And I didn't reach for Hottie Husband's hand. I didn't even think about it until later.

Instead, I lived in that moment without fear or worry or stress. I don't know why it happened so organically. Maybe because of the lessons of late; that everything can change in an instant no matter where you are. So, why waste time on fear? Why let it steal the joy when the fear is ungrounded?

It got to fly with my two year old son and laugh as he shouted- WE MADE IT - as the plane touched down. We don't know how he knew to say that and the people around us giggled when they heard it.

But, it was my sentiment exactly and perhaps why I was able to let go of the fear. Because through everything that has been thrown at us over the years, we always seem to be able to come out the other end saying, "We made it."