To Fly

Never tell a possum that he can't do something, because he'll make it his goal in life to prove you wrong. I'm sure my older half-brother has some possum in his blood somewhere. Anyway, when all his freinds told Fredrick A. Possum (The A, he says, stands for 'Awesome'; Fredrick Awesome Possum, but I suspect it's really 'Alistar') that possums couldn't fly, he knew he could make history.

Night and day, he planned and plotted on a pair of marvelous wings with which he could soar through the clouds. His friends came by to look at his plans, and to tell him he was crazy and wouldn't he give up this awful scheme? but he just sent them away again, saying that he was very busy and to come and see him off on his big flying debut.

Finally the day came. Freddy's wings had been crafted with care, checked and rechecked until he deemed them ready. Strapping them on, he marched proudly through the woods, his head held high. The other animals shook their heads and whispered openly of his folly, but he refused to hear, and the followed him along all the same, to see for themselves what they already knew would happen. Old Fred had quite a crowd by the time he reached the mighty cliffs that stood on the edge of the forest. They waited below as he picked out the very highest point of rock and started to climb.

For a few long minutes, Freddy was lost from view in the trees and scrub that grew below the high spires of rock. They thought perhaps he had chickened out and run away when they saw him emerge above the treeline and climb up . He stood, silhouetted against the bright sunset sky and slowly spread his wings.

The strong western wind was in his face, the brilliant sun in his eyes. To fly, he thought. To fly into the tangerine sky. This is truly what life's all about.

And then he jumped.