I Believed I Could Flyyy

As a child, I didn't grow up with many friends – at all, but I did grow with many ideas and many ambitions. I used to draw pictures of birds and butterflies. Anything with wings. I envied them because they could get away from their nests and move on to their next destination. I still don’t remember how, or even why this fascination related to a parachute, but every year when spring began I would grab the lightest blanket from my mother’s closet, find high ground, close my eyes and jump. In hopes of wind picking up from underneath me and the blanket and taking us somewhere far away. One of the last times I ever tried this attempt was the 6th grade. I woke up early as any trouble maker could and made my way to the backyard. I adjusted my pads and helmet and placed a box of bandages on the side of the wooden steps. I reached for the fence and hopped on, balancing my way over to the nearest tree and climbed up the closet branch. I tied the two ends of each side of the blanket to my arms, opened my arms out wide, letting wind pick up, closed my eyes, and then jumped. There was an amazing breeze came beneath me and I felt like I was soaring, like I could do anything then I placed my hands down then opened my eyes but feet wouldn't reach the ground, they couldn't because I was stuck of the tree branch. Mission to fly accomplished, mission to land – not so much. (9.8)