Loving is like flying.
No matter how many times you do it, it never gets easier.
You’ve done it several times but every time turbulence hits and the ride gets scary, worst case scenarios race through your mind. You imagine the horrible moment of falling to your death. You imagine the faces of your loved ones, safe and sound in the warmth of home, sweet home. Your grip on the tray table tightens as you glance at your watch every 5 minutes. You find a song on your playlist that you consider soothing, preferably a love song. You turn up the volume and focus your attention to the melody. You get so focused that you can distinguish the sound of the bass, guitar, drum, and piano. You silently pray, asking God to forgive your sins and make the plane stop shaking. You imagine God with his giant hands holding the plane through the pitch black night sky, like a little kid playing with a toy airplane. You recite the Hail Mary over and over again. There’s something about the Virgin Mary that never ceases to comfort you. And then you swear you’ll never do it again. You’ll never get on a plane again. It’s too much to handle for your fainthearted soul.
But after a while when the chance of flying again comes, you say yes. Somehow you’ve managed to forget your fear and the risks of crashing. You’ve survived before, might as well do it again. You willingly board that plane again, believing the journey that lies ahead will be worth the risk you’re taking.