The flapping

I sat on the mountain top. An eagle landed next to me.

The eagle said, “Do you have any nuts or seeds?” I said no. The eagle said, “How about a recently dead mouse?” I said I did not. I said I had a Mars bar. The eagle said, “I’ve never had one. I’d like to try it.” The eagle ate half the Mars bar and said, “Thanks, I don’t want anymore.”

The eagle said, “Would you rub the back of my neck, underneath my feathers?” I said yes and did so. The eagle began to hum as it moved its head and neck in a circular rhythm. I stopped when my fingers got tired.

The eagle and I sat quietly.

The eagle said, “Do you want to learn how to fly?” I said I did. The eagle said, “Stand up and spread your arms.” I did. The Eagle said, “Now flap your arms in a quick up and down motion.” I did. The Eagle said, “Now, still flapping, lean forward and let yourself fall.” I did. I fell fast. I felt like what lead would feel like if it was falling.

But than the falling slowed until I wasn’t falling anymore. I hadn’t hit the ground. I was hovering in place, like a hummingbird. Oh, I was still flapping my arms, but they were getting tired. I remembered how hummingbirds have a sweet tooth. The sugar gives them the juice to navigate the air. I leaned my face into my jacket pocket and ate the other half of the Mars bar. I felt the spark and flew upwards until I caught the wind. I rode the wind over the face of the mountain.

I flew for a couple of hours until I’d had enough. I landed next to my car and drove home. I went in and sat down on my couch. I like to sit on my couch. It feels like a giant hand is holding me up from the vagaries of the world.