Into freedom: An essay by Elizabeth R.

Elizabeth is a 12-year-old girl who loves to write. Her favorite genre is fantasy. She loves riding around on her scooter, and this is one of the ways she gets her inspiration.

I sit at my computer desk with a blank document in front of me. I gaze out the window at the never-ending rain. I yearn for the sunlight that time forgot.

I have no ideas for stories. My mind wanders on other subjects that connect with the real world I live in every day.
Wait! There still is a small bit of hope. A hope that is so small, I never see it. I must search diligently for it. I must ease out of the fears, out of the worries, out of the fast and the slow lane. I must stop.
I picture myself in a grassy field. The sun shines warm on my face, I hear a bird singing, and the whole field is filled with a tingling sensation that I long for.
I somehow have a desire to run. But I am growing up, I think to myself. I have no time for such childish little games.
However, my legs are moving.
Go ahead, a voice inside my head says, go ahead and let yourself fly. Set me free.
My fingers now dance over to the keyboard. I type, slowly at first, but soon I am going faster and faster on the keyboard.
I begin to fast-walk in the field. Soon I am jogging. Then I start going at a full-out run. My heart skips, and my fingers pause…
Suddenly, I leap into the air and fly. Fly like I mean it! I fly, and nothing else matters to me.
My fingers are now dancing, flying with the story. Flying with my heart, and my soul…
Finally, I land ever so gracefully and softly. I walk for a little, and then find myself at my computer again.
I look out the window to see the sun peeking over a cloud, and the thunderheads moving away.
This is my chance! This is the opportunity I have been waiting for! I leap up and throw on some shoes, running outside and into the fresh air.
Into freedom.


8 thoughts on “Into freedom: An essay by Elizabeth R.”

  1. Elizabeth,

    I really, really like that sentence, “Fly like I mean it.” It strikes a deep chord in me. Thank you for writing it.

    Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly in the rain?


  2. I often feel like this when I scooter. I love how the wind rushes through my hair, and the adrenalin that keeps me going down the same hill day after day.

    I have thought about flying in the rain, but I really prefer the alternative. 😉


  3. Elizabeth,

    I’ve watched swallows, golden eagles, and a few other birds fly in the rain and wondered what they were feeling. The hummingbirds that come to our feeders sometimes fight driving winds and hard rain to get to the nectar cups. The feathers on the tops of the birds’ heads stand up in spikes.

    Have you read Bambi by Felix Salten? If I remember, there’s a scene in there where a young bird is flying and runs into rain (or is it snow?) for the first time. Thinking it can avoid the rain, it tries flying higher. Or something like that. Until another bird tells it that won’t work.

    Recently, I have begun to enjoy (again) walking in the rain, especially in a desert canyon, where the sound of the falling rain is compressed and amplified so that it sings a beguiling whiiiiishhh-ing song that sinks deep into you, soothing the soul. And the water popping on my hat brim and striking my jeans. The cooling skin the rain lays down over your own.



  4. Ah, desert rain. We’ve been getting something close to jungle rains, here. It’s more like trying to walk thru the roar and pressure of a waterfall, but you never quite get to the other side.
    I may yet find mushrooms in my hair one of these mornings.


  5. This essay has a quality of releasement in it. You can almost feel the power of flight as you read it. Even the games of children can be a release. I have sometimes felt this way. It feels wonderful to fly.

    Thank you for sharing this essay, Liz. it’s beautiful.


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