My sister is taking her first plane ride,
and she is taking it all on her own, to a metropolis that does not know her. It
is her first seminar, her first hotel stay and her first travel all alone. In
my mind, she is still a child, not the Chemical engineer she had made herself
become, and in my mind, she, like my brother, will always need protecting
against the world.
This would seem trite, to those used to
travelling, and especially to those who have traveled since they were small, but
for us, who have to strive in order to make it happen for ourselves, it is a
testament, once again, of dreams becoming true.
This must be how parents feel, as their
children make their dreams real, because of them, or, in some unfortunate
cases, despite them. It feels strange, like I had been left out of an
experience, which, in reality, could have never been mine anyway.
Perhaps, I have always thought that I would
be there during my brother and my sister’s first plane ride. I have not
imagined a scenario of them doing it alone or with other people. I had always
thought that I had to make it happen for them: this thing imaginable only as a
luxury when we were children, as we sprawled, belly-down, on our parents’ bed
and on our daydreams.
Too soon, we have stopped dreaming of becoming
princesses and warriors, just when kids our age started believing they can be
fairies or lions. In the stead of wild childish imaginings, we dreamed of grown
versions of ourselves, in important luncheon meetings, or in pilot cockpits. We
talked too long about plane rides and hotel rooms, instead of wands and swords,
of huge beds and hot and cold showers instead of superpowers and wings.
There were times when I wished we had it
like other children did, but this—this unknowable triumph we share only with
those who are like Us—this is irreplaceable. It escapes language and is articulated
only by the glitter of tiaras, pixie dust and shining armors.
We do not mind if our first plane ride happened
fifteen years too late into our lifetimes. This does not change a thing. Plane
rides and hotel rooms are made of similar stuff as princesses or warriors, of fairies
and lions, too.
