Flight Of Fancy

Some days I decided not to go to school. I'd decide to fly instead. Yes. I could fly. Really, I could fly. I would finish my Rice Krispies or Cheerios, or whatever cereal of the day it was I was trying to enjoy, go out the kitchen door to the end of the driveway and begin my journey through the sky. I stood with arms outstretched at my sides, slowly rising, rising till I was just above the trees. I'd lie parallel to the ground, my body an airplane now, and off I'd go, gliding gently over my neighborhood.
Just above the trees and telephone lines it was-remember I still don't like heights, you know, but I'm in control, I'm the pilot on this flight. Past the Olsens', past Mrs. Price in her witches' suit. She looks up but she cannot reach me. I turn my head looking back towards home and it begins to fade away, but there's Whee-Zee running below, keeping pace, ever faithful, looking up to make sure I'm OK.
I glide on over all my neighbors homes and they disappear. The lake stretches out before me, and then it's gone. I sail past the school and all my classmates look up to wave, but I'm too fast for them, and in an instant I'm over them and out of town.
I'm long gone now; the fields of Aunt Bette's farm pass below and now I'm all alone except for Whee-Zee keeping pace, barking now and then just to let me know she's still there. The sky is the bluest blue and bright without clouds, and I sail over oceans that glow like crystal. The air is calm and warm, and I glide with the birds, skimming the ocean; just touching the waves. I can dive and soar or stop in mid air, and my joy is without bounds. The earth below glows, and Whee-Zee is still there to protect me, that powerful chest propelling her along. The birds sing and I whistle their songs, and I sail on and on and on.
It is bliss, this trip of mine, and I try to fly more and more, whenever I can. The journey has no end, and I glide forever to the end of the world and beyond that, and even Whee-Zee can't quite keep up, but I hear her in the distance, and I feel safe.
This is joy this flying, this well-kept secret power of mine, and no one can take it away, and I set my sights on the moon and the stars, shining brightly in the distance.
And then a voice, softly at first, then louder, even louder assaults my ears, and my flight begins to end.
"Time to get up," it says. "You'll be late for school."
"OK Mom, just give me another minute."
Give me time to hit the ground.