First Solo Flight

The atmosphere was mellow.

Glowing.

The sun had cast its golden rays onto the abstract pattern of landing strips.

The wind gentle, not turbulent.

A delicate touch upon the fuselage.

Rectangular repetition, minimal bumpy landings.

He gets out.

I taxi around and line up onto the threshold; a stark contrast of black and white.

My hand proceeds to push in the throttle and I accelerate down the runway.

Control column back, airborne.

The world begins its descent into a hollow fusion of desolate buildings and the vast bed of dark green trees become the only synthesising beings as I carry on my ascent.

Trivial matters are lacklustre, I’m airborne.

I continue around the circuit; a cluster of concentration but utter equanimity as I pass clumps of milky white clouds and I am surrounded by a sea of cerulean blue.

The journey is transient and I pitch the aircraft down to initiate the landing procedure.

The high pitched screech of the stall warner makes itself known and within seconds, the white mechanical bird is back from the serenity of the air and onto the laden ground.