I was reading a post by "Jen" e sais quoi the other day, and now I’m wondering…what would it be like if you really did fly instead of falling? This has almost nothing to do with her beautiful post, and everything to do with the goofy things my brain does to entertain itself when I’m supposed to be getting things done. But no, really. What would it be like if you thought you were going to fall and then you didn’t? Like an avian first timer, would you go through a few clumsy flaps, then suddenly manage the trick of it? Would a human instinctively feel how the air currents would lift or drop you? Or would it be a wobbly, wild ride full of startling falls and random graceful glides? I’m betting on wobbly, but that may be because I’ve been feeling a bit wobbly myself lately. I think my depression is finally beginning to lift, but it’s been with me so long this time that I’m having to re-learn how to be okay. It’s like climbing a staircase where you suspect one of the steps may break. You continue walking up, but there’s this tension in your body because you keep expecting to have to catch yourself. A part of me wants to start running—just haul ass up the steps, let them break behind me if they want, I'll zoom upward and at the top I'll fly off into amazing. Sometimes I think that part of me is brave, sometimes I think it’s foolhardy. Either way, wobbly or wild, things are improving. That’s the important part.