A little girl runs ahead of me, putting her arms out alongside and letting the breeze float around her. “Catch me Miss Meg,” she calls out over her shoulder. The two pigtails sprouting on top of her head bounce along with each step. She runs down the hill at full speed. I can jog alongside and keep up with those toddler legs.
She is hope and joy and all that is good in this world, running in the sunshine. Five minutes ago there may have been tears over shoes that had to be worn. But now that tragedy is forgotten and the shoes kick up dust behind us.
“We’re flying Miss Meg,” the little one declares with confidence I dare not deny. My arms go up too. I want to be part of her world as much as possible. I want to have tears on my cheeks one minute and smile so big the next that the tears bounce off. I want to run down hills or mountains with no worry about who might see me or how I might look. I want to eat cheese sticks, grapes, and fig bars like they were the greatest foods ever. And I want to invite my friends to run with me in the sunshine.
I want to fly.
#52sparks is my year-long writing series based on an art prompt challenge. The title is inspired by a quote from Star Wars: The Last Jedi: “We are the spark, that will light the fire that’ll burn the First Order down” (Poe Dameron). The spark that lights a fire to toast a marshmallow or to ravage a forest begins in the space of an inch. So just imagine what hundreds of inches and words can do.