First Flight, Page 1

First Flight



         Randy sits tall in the minivan seat beside me.  His green and brown camouflage pants are neatly tucked into his black combat boots.  The boots are shining so brightly that I catch a reflection of sunlight off of them.  “How long did it take him to get those boots so spiffy?” I wonder to myself.  With another quick sideways glance, I see him brushing imaginary dust and not-so-imaginary dog fur off his sleeves.  He checks that his boot laces are tight, double checks the tuck of his pants and triple checks the position of his Civil Air Patrol hat.



“Oh Randy, you look so sharp!” I supportively blurt out.  My insides are churning, my heart is beating quickly and I take another deep, calming breath so I don’t start crying.  “You be careful up there Randy.  Pay attention and make sure you know how to use the radio.”  Randy tilts his head to the side like a confused dog, and I realize that I’ll have to explain that one a little.  “Remember when we read Hatchet in book club, Randy?” I say, hoping that he understands my thoughts without me saying them out loud.  The quizzical expression remains on his face, and I keep going with my mom-is-worried-and-slightly-insane explanation.  “In Hatchet, the pilot passes out, and Brian needs to land the plan on his own.  I want you to be able to use the radio just in case something like that happens,” I hurriedly explain, trying my hardest to sound reasonable.



  With an exasperated, “Oh, Mom,” Randy pops open the door, and hops out of the van.  He straightens his shirt, adjusts his hat, and marches, yes marches, off to the black-topped tarmac area to meet the pilot.  I gather my lesson planning books, super camera and mega-lens and trudge after him, dragging my sleeping foot behind me like a zombie.