A coworker of mine recently flew somewhere for the first time in her life. She was both excited and nervous. Her husband has been working out of state, so her desire to see him outweighed any fear.
I remember my first flight well. I had just graduated high school, and my friend wanted someone to go with her to Texas to visit her aunt. My dad did not want me to go, and he would not give me permission. I knew he was worried, but I was full of myself as a newfound adult, so I earned enough money to pay my own way and told him I was going.
My friend’s dad drove us to the airport. It was a nerve-wracking ride because we left too late, and her dad tried to make up the time by weaving through Chicago traffic. We made it, though, and when the jet was barreling down the runway, my friend looked at me and said, “Isn’t this fun?” I responded, “Wonnerful, just wonnerful.” I was too terrified at that point to enunciate my words.
The airline was the colorful, but now defunct, Braniff. We were told to be sure to ask for decks of playing cards with the logo on them. Getting those cards was the highlight of the flight. I was relieved when the flight was over. I had no idea at that point how much flying I would do in my life.
It turned out that I would fly at least twice a year for over thirty years. Moving away from my home state was the main reason for this. I wanted my children to know their extended family, so I made sure we got back every summer while they were growing up. It was not easy when they were small. Diapers, baby formula, car seats, toys, seating arrangements, etc. I once had to argue with airline staff because of a seating mix-up. They did not put both of my kids with me. My best argument was, “Trust me. No one wants to sit next to my children.”
On one flight, there was a lot of turbulence. My daughter said, “This is fun!” My son was just enough older than her to know something wasn’t right and told me that he was scared. I wasn’t too thrilled with it myself, but I had to stay calm so they wouldn’t freak out. I have never been afraid to fly, but I never developed a love for it either.
It is a means to an end, and that end is the people I love. I knew when I moved away from everyone that I was giving up a lot. I continue to fly because I want to be with my family when I can. My mom and I used to say, “We don’t have to live close to be close,” but being away since her death last year has been tough. I believe I gain a lot by living where I do, but that gain is only worth it because there are flights I can get on. This month, some family members flew to be at my daughter’s wedding, and it meant the world to me. For family, the end is worth the means.