Flying

For months I had nightmares about airplanes crashing. My mom couldn’t understand why I was so worried, and neither did I. I was nine years old and my grandparents were planning on taking Danielle, my older sister, and me to visit our never-before-seen relatives in England and Ireland. I was both excited and filled with dread.

The plane was cold. I remember seeing blue everywhere, but not a friendly, sky-colour blue: it was steely; icy. During take-off my hands turned icy too. I clenched the armrest in my left hand and my grandma’s hand in my right. I couldn’t let go of my chair even after we’d been flying for a while. Every bump of turbulence sent a chilly thrill of terror from my stomach to my toes. I couldn’t get used to the idea that nothing was keeping the plane in the air; that nothing was below us, but air.

Somehow I managed to fall into an uncomfortable sleep with my head resting on my grandma’s chest.  Before I knew it, my granddad was gently shaking me awake, saying, “Look,” and pointing to the windows on our left. I looked through tired eyes, but was suddenly jolted wide awake in horror.

“Are we over the ocean?” I gasped.

“No,” Granddad chuckled, “those are the clouds.”

I stared, open-mouthed. We were skimming right over top of the clouds as the sun sank below them. I hadn’t been wrong to think we were over water. They were gilded brilliantly by the sunset, reflecting all the sun's radiance into the plane and dispersing the fearsome blue. But the shape was that of an enormous, solid mass of water. It was riddled with waves that stretched to the horizon in an awe-striking expanse I had never been exposed to before. I could have been looking at the sea at sunset, but the waves were frozen instead of rolling. I half expected the plane to turn and dip one wing into the salt water, spraying a golden stream up behind it. Of course, this idea terrified me. I could barely handle the plane moving at a straight angle, let alone tipping to one side. But the imagination of a nine-year-old does whatever it wants.

And apparently so does that of a 23-year-old. I was standing in the Pacific Ocean at Whiterock, with the water just up to my thighs, and enjoying the view of the white buildings rising up the hill back on land. Dale, my boyfriend of a year and a half, was facing me. This year I would finish my degree (Bachelor of Arts, major in English), and then hopefully go straight into the one-year Teacher Education Program for elementary school teachers. But after taking my time getting my degree in something like five or six years, jumping into another year somehow seemed a little crazy. That, and I couldn’t imagine being a teacher already. So I asked Dale if he’d consider moving to California for “just a year.” Or Ireland. But that seemed like my imagination for sure.

Lucky for me, he said, “Well, I guess wherever you go, I’ll go.”

I’ll admit I reveled in that comment for a while. But by the next week I was back to trying to convince him. Change is not his favourite, but it’s at least nine months later now and we’re going to Ireland in two more months so all the more respect to him! It turns out moving to the USA to work is a ridiculous process, even for someone just north of the border. So we took a more nerve-wracking route to a cooler place—in my opinion. I went after my dual citizenship with the UK, and he went with SWAP. Neither of us have jobs over there yet, or a place to stay, and in my case I no longer have a job in Canada. I have less than $2000 in my bank account and about $3800 in student loans which I will have to start paying off in September. And you know what they say about finding a job in Ireland. As you can imagine, the pressure’s on.

Dale will be leaving the steady, secure, and exhausting job he has had since high school, I will be moving out for the first time, and both of us will be moving in with a significant other for the first time. A new country, a new home, a new stage in life, and no more school—for a year. I really hate saying that last part. I’ve always been ambitious, which means I’ve had practice with hefty challenges. That’s how I’ll be looking at this big year in an attempt to prepare myself mentally. Nevertheless, I am excited!

I still don’t like flying. But here’s hoping the view from Ireland is as good as the one from the plane.