Lola Learns to Fly Lola was only four the first time she flew. Although she's now aware, as a logical adult, that her first flight was a daydream (most likely inspired by a nearly fatal head injury earlier that week), she still remembers it like a memory, not a dream. Sometimes she wonders==maybe she really
did fly that day. Every time she thinks of it, even now, 23 years later, it is still as tangible as the grass between her toes.
The whole scene is incredibly clear in Lola's mind. She was four. The day was bright and hot and a little humid--a typical day in Texas. Lola was miserable because she couldn't go swimming with her sisters. She had twelve stitches stretching across the top of her forehead where her hair began and her face ended. The pain was minimal now, except when she raised her eyebrows, but the hair near her injury had been shaved and her scalp was itchy. She kicked a rock down the narrow sidewalk in front of her family's apartment, sticking her bottom lip out in an impressive pout. She wanted to swim so badly. She was hot and bored and she missed the delicious sensation of cool water gliding along her skin and lifting her smoothly to the surface. But she couldn't get the stitches wet. And no amount of pleading had convinced her mother that she would keep her head dry if she was allowed to go into the pool.
There were no other children around (
Probably all in the pool, Lola thought to herself grumpily), and the heat of the day kept any adults who might be around inside near an air conditioner and a sweating, cold glass of sweet tea. She was alone, standing on a hot, dry sidewalk bordering an even hotter blacktop parking lot. The heat shimmered off the pavement, looking like translucent waves from a distance. Lola began to imagine that the air around her was as thick and deep as the humidity made it feel. She was suddenly pushing her way through the heavy air, each step's energy forcing the air outward in jiggly waves, reminding her of Jell-O. As she stood there twirling her arms and watching the air bounce around her, Lola had a sudden and very compelling thought. With the air being so thick and heavy, she might be able to swim through it, since she couldn't get in the pool.
Lola had always loved water and had learned to swim at a very young age. At four, she could already swim the length of the pool, traveling along the bottom where the pressure of the water squeezed at her eardrums. It was the feeling of gliding through the water that she was pining for--feeling it all around her but moving past her at the same time, never touching the same water twice in a row.
The more Lola thought about swimming in the air, the more convinced she became that it was possible. She wondered how she should begin. Should she lay back and try to float, tipping her head back until her legs began to rise, like she did in the pool?
No, she thought
this air is thicker than the water. And besides, if I'm wrong I might hit my head again. And Mom would KILL me if I came home bleeding again.Though this thought was fairly reasonable, it was quickly countered by a strange twist in her 4-year-old logic: she needed a running start. Lola pushed through the air until she reached the end of the sidewalk--the farthest she was allowed to go by herself. She could just barely hear giggles and splashing coming from the pool.
Lola stuck her arms straight out at her sides and took a deep breath. She inhaled sharply and then puffed out her cheeks, holding her breath like she was getting ready to dive. She started running as fast as she could, quickly picking up speed despite her tiny legs and the heavy air. After a few steps, she pushed off the ground with her right foot, stretching her arms over her head and pointing her toes. She dove in to the heavy air, having faith that it would catch her and hold her like water.
She was right.
Instead of falling flat on her face like any logical adult would have suspected, Lola glided gracefully through the air. Once she was moving, the air stopped feeling heavy and gelatinous. Instead she felt soft and weightless, like floating on water without the wet. Tiny giggles escaped her throat as she twirled and dove across the bright afternoon sky. Although she was a brave little girl, she was also prudent, and decided to stay close to the ground, just in case her sudden gift of flight was short-lived. She hovered just a few feet of the ground, marveling at how different the world looked even from this relatively low height. She rolled over on her back and relaxed, letting out a contented sigh. Feeling like she could stay this way forever, Lola was disappointed to hear voices approaching from the pool. Her sisters were returning.
Lola decided she'd rather not let anyone know about her ability to fly, so she floated back down to the ground and crouched on the ground, pretending to watch a little hill of bright red fire ants as they scurried to and fro. Her older sister, Katie, called her name and admonished her for getting so close to the fire ants; didn't she know they would bite her? Lola shrugged and stifled a laugh. If only her sister knew what Lola did. Flying was a lot more interesting than fire ants, anyway. She ran to her sisters' side, grabbing Katie's hand as they headed toward their apartment.
Lola thought she'd be able to fly again another day, but every time she tried, she couldn't do it. The air never seemed heavy enough again, nor her feet light enough. Somehow she knew she was still capable of it, but the situation was never quite right. She longed to feel the wind on her face again, and to feel the freedom of air beneath her feet. But she settled for a nice, long swim three weeks later when she had her stitches removed. After that day, she always imagined herself flying every time she dove in to the pool.
