There was once a girl who could fly. Or at least she said she could. Whether or not she told the truth, no one really knew. She certainly believed she could.
You see, when she was a baby, her parents dropped her. It was not on purpose, of course not, but she fell three stories, hit the ground, bounced, and started crying. Her parents rushed downstairs, horrified at what they had done, only to find their daughter completely fine, crying for her mother.
Her parents told her this story often, this story of her miraculous survival; from this story the girl understood that she could fly. Her parents never corrected her. They were too afraid of upsetting her, of being blamed for the fall.
So, there was a girl who believed she could fly. Her parents moved her out to the seaside after her fall, hoping to bring her into a less dangerous environment. There were no tall buildings, no balconies far enough from the ground to test her theory. There were the cliffs, the ones near the beach, but she could never find one that wasn’t over the ocean, so there was no chance for her theory to be disproven.
Her parents worried about her. She had a habit of jumping out of trees, jumping off roofs and rocks, anything she could climb. She never got hurt, but that wasn’t what worried her parents. She was a very fragile girl. Every time she jumped, her parents worried that this would be the time she fell. That she would learn the truth — that people can’t fly.
But that never happened. The girl also had a habit of landing on her feet, dropping down with a smile on her face and the knowledge that she could do anything.
One day, after a particularly nice landing, she got tired of jumping out of trees and decided to try the cliffs, to see if she could breathe underwater as well as fly. The sky had always treated her well, so why shouldn’t the sea? She climbed up a cliff overlooking the sea, and she jumped. She fell without a sound, landed without a splash, and was never heard from again.
No one knew what happened to her. Maybe she was wrong, and she fell into the waves only to be washed back onto shore. Maybe the ocean accepted her, took her hand and guided her to the sea floor, introduced her to the fish and taught her how to breathe underwater. Maybe the sky wouldn’t let her go, wanted to keep her all to itself, wrapped in clouds and rain. Maybe she never worked up the nerve to jump. No one knew if she was satisfied, wherever she was, if she was done challenging the forces of nature, ready to stay still.
No one, least of all her, knew if she was done.
You see, when she was a baby, her parents dropped her. It was not on purpose, of course not, but she fell three stories, hit the ground, bounced, and started crying. Her parents rushed downstairs, horrified at what they had done, only to find their daughter completely fine, crying for her mother.
Her parents told her this story often, this story of her miraculous survival; from this story the girl understood that she could fly. Her parents never corrected her. They were too afraid of upsetting her, of being blamed for the fall.
So, there was a girl who believed she could fly. Her parents moved her out to the seaside after her fall, hoping to bring her into a less dangerous environment. There were no tall buildings, no balconies far enough from the ground to test her theory. There were the cliffs, the ones near the beach, but she could never find one that wasn’t over the ocean, so there was no chance for her theory to be disproven.
Her parents worried about her. She had a habit of jumping out of trees, jumping off roofs and rocks, anything she could climb. She never got hurt, but that wasn’t what worried her parents. She was a very fragile girl. Every time she jumped, her parents worried that this would be the time she fell. That she would learn the truth — that people can’t fly.
But that never happened. The girl also had a habit of landing on her feet, dropping down with a smile on her face and the knowledge that she could do anything.
One day, after a particularly nice landing, she got tired of jumping out of trees and decided to try the cliffs, to see if she could breathe underwater as well as fly. The sky had always treated her well, so why shouldn’t the sea? She climbed up a cliff overlooking the sea, and she jumped. She fell without a sound, landed without a splash, and was never heard from again.
No one knew what happened to her. Maybe she was wrong, and she fell into the waves only to be washed back onto shore. Maybe the ocean accepted her, took her hand and guided her to the sea floor, introduced her to the fish and taught her how to breathe underwater. Maybe the sky wouldn’t let her go, wanted to keep her all to itself, wrapped in clouds and rain. Maybe she never worked up the nerve to jump. No one knew if she was satisfied, wherever she was, if she was done challenging the forces of nature, ready to stay still.
No one, least of all her, knew if she was done.