Letting Go

As the youngest, smallest, and only girl, I had to ride in the middle.  Back in those days, there were limited required safety precautions , so having two fidgeting, poking, annoying brothers wedging you in was probably as safe as it got.  We went on many road trips back then.  Mostly we visited old stuff like Civil War battlefields, Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, Monticello, Annapolis, Valley Forge and for fun the Jersey Shore.  Even though I probably saw very little scenery from my vantage point, I loved a good car ride.

My Dad was a sensible driver, but it scared me when he passed cars and I was always fearful we would go over a cliff in the mountains.  But, we survived. Thank God.  We even survived my Mother reading the map and giving my father directions.

As I grew older, I had to learn to be a passenger with still others in control.  My first plane ride had my Uncle Bud at the controls and my brother Dick as co-pilot.  My brother was graduating from Army helicopter flight school and my Uncle had flown he and a friend from Jacksonville, Fla to Alabama to attend the graduation.  Bud enjoyed is showing off his piloting skills and liked to share the experience with others.  It was memorable.  I think he even made my brother nervous when he took the plane near to a stall.  All I knew lights were flashing and bells were ringing and a cow was going around in a circle.  I tried to scream but couldn’t.  After that, commercial flights were about as exciting as a Greyhound bus ride.

My Uncle’s P-47 named after my Mother

Still when you are not behind the wheel, you have to trust the one that is and let go,  Just let go and enjoy the ride.  The driver can’t experience all that the passenger can so don’t miss the experience.  Take it in, look around, and breathe in all of it.  Life is kind of like that too   Let go, be a good passenger and enjoy the ride.


1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s