By Hook or By Crook

The captain was not so much adored as he was feared. He was a brilliant man, very handy and a learned fellow. If you dare cross him so much as an inch, your heart could pound out of your skull for fear of catching against his sharp weapon of a limb. His methods were far superior and complex to the ones that other sea captains shared to train the crew.

***

Fear does not begat success. Fear manifests. Fear envelops and crushes dreams.

I was afraid to fly. Peter told me to think lovely thoughts. He was right. I saw myself flying and I did. 

When my father tried to teach me, he shouted instructions on how to jump on the wind's back, which way to turn and how to steer. It was far more simple than that.

My nerves and anxiety, my fear, held me down straight to the concrete ground. His shouting made me choke on the fear bubbling up inside me.

It pulled me further and further, deeper and deeper until I drowned underneath the tar like quicksand.

The streets of Brooklyn were cold and hard. The blacktop sea swirled beneath my feet.

I kept a steady eye ahead and a sturdy grip on the handle bars. I peddled and pushed off, flying through the air, the wind whipping my face in the crisp September breeze.

A smile played across my lips when I realized what was happening.

I'm flying! Peter was right.