It’s hard to imagine now, but we always traveled, what today would feel like almost naked. We had no phones. No GPS. No maps (I guess they were available, but we didn’t know how to read them.) I’m not even sure we wore our seat belts. But somehow, someway, my mother got us from place to place. Mostly doctor’s appointment for me, in larger cities. She never thought she was brave, but tucked under her wing, as we flitted and fluttered about, I always felt safe. 

I suppose courage is a muscle. You have to use it to gain it. You don’t get to be ready. Not for anything really. I think sometimes we see people out in the world doing the most remarkable, frightening things. The only difference between them and everybody else is not that they don’t have any fear, the difference is, they’re doing it anyway. 

From all the times she “had to go,” my mother gained the strength, to well, just go. Go for fun. For shopping. To help me with art shows. Book signings. And I know that fear didn’t just magically disappear, but she learned to let it ride along. “Ok fear, you can come with, but you’re not going to drive.”

It is so easy to say no. To stand still. But oh, the things you’ll miss. I know it’s frightening. I have shook the tears from these fragile wings, but oh the views, the joy, the flight! You can’t miss it. I won’t miss it. And my mother, the one who first tucked me under her wing, well now, she’s tucked under mine.