Back to Yesterday (25 page)

~ Natasha Blume

Journey (Ready to Fly)

I
n warfare, it’s not about two fighters dueling….two men sizing each other up and scrapping it out in a back alley. It’s about sneaking up behind someone unseen and shooting them in the back. That’s the ugly truth of it. When I took off and left Levi’s farm behind me, I knew that I may not make it home. However, I locked that thought inside a sealed vacuum and I would not unseal it again. I had one job to do and all of my focus was on completing the task. I was alone in this mission and my life was in my own hands, locked inside a steel bottle.

Having no choice other than adapting to the situation, I figured out a few things after I was in the air. The vibration was less dramatic if I backed off the throttle to lower the engine’s rpms, which made me drop altitude, and I had to fly at slower speeds, but this alternative made me a sparrow in a world full of hawks. I knew this, yet I had no other option. So low and slow was how I flew, flying at five hundred feet above the ground and one hundred to a hundred and fifty miles per hour. I avoided populated areas in order to avoid being shot at from the ground. The risks were great, too great, and I would be a fool to deny it.

I did get shot at. Bullets pinged off my plane left and right. Still, I flew straight and kept my heading, sending up prayers all the while.
Lord, please let me make it home.

While I tried not to think about her, it was impossible not to. Sophie was ingrained in me, buried in my soul, trapped inside my heart, and she was as much inside that plane as I was. I carried her with me everywhere.

I laid my hand over my chest pocket expecting to feel her letter there until I remembered I no longer had it. My heart cracked at the memory of burning it and my eyes stung with a swell of tears. I swallowed a thick gulp of air and listened to the sounds of bullets pinging into my left wing.

Please let me make it home.

For an hour, I did this. Every mile behind me was a victory in my book and I would tell myself…
you’re almost there
…
just a little further
.

My hands and feet tingled and itched from all the vibration. My teeth and jaw ached. I felt shaken and stirred and served on the rocks, but I was making progress. I could survive this.

Just a little further
.

Then the coastline appeared and if I was standing on the ground I would have fallen to my knees. The sight was majestic. England waiting on the other side of the English Channel with arms out to its sides as if it were saying,
“Nice to have you back, Charlie. We’ve been worried.”

“Nice to be back,” I said out loud. I almost cried when I heard my own voice.

Holy shit, I can see England.

I felt like a child who had gotten lost in a crowd, scared and alone, searching frantically for my parents and the relief of finding them. In the distance, I could see the White Cliffs of Dover. Other than Sophie, I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

Almost there.

However, the closer I got to the cliffs the worse the vibration became. I throttled back more to lower the rpms, causing me to drop fifty feet, and then another fifty. I had hoped the vibration would ease. It didn’t. Then one by one my instruments started to fail. First, I lost altitude and heading, then the engine oil pressure, temp, and finally rpms. I wanted to scream, feeling betrayed by my own plane.

“I took care of you! I put you back together. The least you can do is get me back
home
!”

Continuing to pull back on the throttle, not being able to read my instruments, I dropped a few more feet and the vibration eased up. The Cliffs were exactly three hundred and fifty feet high. I knew this. I had flown over the cliffs many times, and I also knew that I may not make it over the top of them.

Nothing makes a man more aware of his capabilities than when he has to push aside his ego and vanity and stare reality in the eye, realizing any minute could be his last.

I’m so close.

I breathed through my nose, and like before, colors started to swirl in front of me. Red, yellow, and blue.

I’d made two promises to Sophie. One I couldn’t keep. And the other… the other I would fight like hell to keep.

“I’m coming home, Sophie. Can you hear me? I’m coming home.” My voice shook as much as the flying hunk of metal I occupied.

Telling myself I was still a United States Army Air Corp pilot and flying one of the best inventions man had ever built, I refused defeat. Speed and skill. I didn’t have the speed, but damn it, I still had skill.

“I’m coming home, baby. Don’t give up on me and I won’t give up on me either.”

Gritting my teeth, I said another prayer, and flew straight towards the cliffs, knowing I would need a miracle.

My heart is a prisoner unto itself

Bound by love for someone else

There are no locks or strong steel bars

Just lonely thoughts of where you are

It has no home or place to be

It only wants to be with thee

My mind has no key to unlock the door

That holds its imprisoned forevermore

There was no sentencing or time set to get out

It controls its own there is no doubt

What can I do to relieve the pain

To open the door and unlock the chain

There is no pardon, there is no parole

My lonely heart has total control

Only time will tell, it’s not up to me

My imprisoned heart in its love for thee

~ The Sweeplings

Give Me a Sign

I
had successful days and some not so successful ones. But even the successful ones were a struggle to put one foot in front of the other, though I was learning to handle them better. I didn’t feel like old worn sweaters anymore. More like gently used clothing.

By the time summer came, I risked a glance over my shoulder of where I’d been, surprising myself that I had made it this far without ever breathing a full breath of air. I was merely taking little gasps at a time. Like being underwater and only coming up long enough to take some air into my lungs before submerging myself back into the dark abyss. I was doing the bare minimum to survive.

One morning I sat up straight in my bed. A sudden feeling came over me like the Earth had shifted and tilted in the wrong direction. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. I was scared.

Something was wrong
.

I got up and ran downstairs, not sure what I would find. Maybe someone was in trouble. The kitchen light was on, the smell of bacon wafting in the air.

“Mom?”

My mother looked up and smiled. Her eyes were bright and cheery, her cheeks rosy. “Good morning, dear. Hungry?”

My eyes flickered around the room, categorizing every item. Everything was in its place, nothing out of order. I ran to my dad’s study. He was sitting in his chair behind his desk. He looked up when he heard me enter, lowered his glasses and set them down. “Honey? You okay? You look pale.”