Can You Fly?

I had no idea, when I went to the library on Wednesday, that it would be any more memorable than any of our other library trips.

My kids were scattered all over the place finding who-knows-what.  Books, magazines, DVDs... watching the snapping turtle paddle around his tiny world... talking to ever-patient librarians.... stuff like that.  I was in the young adult section looking for something good I had not already read  (this is a constant challenge to which I'm sure many of you can relate) when I became aware of someone beside me.  I kept reading, thinking it was one of my children, but when a voice said, "hello," I paused. 

I turned to see a black boy with huge brown eyes sitting on the tall chair beside me, swinging his feet, one shoelace untied and dangling toward the floor.  "Hello," I answered. 

 

"My name is Jamal," he said, as if this was what I wanted to know.  He was right.  Then he answered my next question.  "I'm four.  And this is a tall chair.  But I can get off it."  He jumped down.  "And I can get back up."  He climbed back up.

I wondered what I could possibly say to this amazing feat. "Wow!  You must be really good at playing on the playground!"

He leaned in closer, looked me right in the eye, and whispered intently, "I can fly."

I stared at him, shocked by the force and honesty of his statement, until after a moment I remembered that this was a four year old boy in the library, and that he probably couldn't really fly-- although something about his sincerity, or my gullibility, had caused me, for just a moment, to be totally impressed.  And jealous.   

He must have seen something in my eyes because he leaned in closer and asked, "Do you want me to teach you?"

I had to blink before I could hoist a smile onto my face.  "Sure!"  

He sat up and looked around the library, leaning back on his chair to see behind the shelves.  Then he turned back to me.  "My babysitter is here today.  How about tomorrow?"  

He looked so sorry, and I was disappointed as well.  "Tomorrow would be great," I said, although I must admit, I was wondering how he would find me tomorrow.  Thursdays are busy days.  But for flying lessons I could cancel just about anything, including peace talks to stall Armageddon. 

Our conversation moved on to other topics, like where my parents were, and if any of my kids knew how to drive cars.  Apparently driving cars impressed Jamal almost as much as flying impressed me.  After a while he jumped of the chair and went to find Peter and talk to him-- a great match, I have no doubt.  And then it was time to check out our books (I did find one I hadn't read) and go home.

It's now Monday and I'm still waiting for those flying lessons.  Maybe I should have given him directions to our house.  Or maybe he's waiting till he gets his driver's license.  I hope that babysitter is nice to him. 

Rebecca

who checked out The Swan Maiden by Heather Tomlinson, and finds it a tolerable substitute for flying herself