I'm Coming by Majd Bostani

“I’m Coming”

walks into room with flight book in hand, opens up book, and starts crying

What the heck does a runway guard light look like?

I really don’t know anymore. This summer hasn’t allowed me to focus on anything. I already had to drop out of summer Geometry, and now I can’t even remember what I worked so hard on for flight school. My life was flipped around like it’s some kind of aerobatic thrill ride without any gravity.

“Go flying. You’ll be closer to him… then you are now,” my pilot buddies told me.

They’re just trying to get money from me. I’m not feeling good, both emotionally and physically! I have been like this for a week now. How am I supposed to get all better on Wednesday?

It’s not like he has any superpowers to get us back to normal in two days.

The worst hit I could probably take would be to go to my flight lesson and have my instructor take the controls from me because I forgot how to respond to whatever kind of situation he tests me on. If I want to fly, I want to fly. I’m paying for the plane, not my instructor. I don’t want my instructor to fly the plane for me.

“You leave it all on the ground when you fly”, they say. All of the stress of day-to-day life.

Well, the struggle is getting off of the ground. If I want to fly, I don’t want to cry for 20 minutes after all of the airport people offer me their condolences. I don’t want to embarrass myself during the ground test and have it feel like a setback to my progress.

My dad wouldn’t have wanted to see me cancel a lesson out of pure stress. Being a pilot himself, he would always stress not being stressed when flying.

“Fatigue is what kills most pilots. Always sleep for two extra hours, eat something nutritious, and make sure you are at your 150% when you fly.” My dad would remind me the night before a flight lesson.

Oh man, how much do I miss seeing my dad everyday? I’ve spent all 495,239,400 seconds of my life with my dad. That’s 6732 days. That’s better than any Snapchat streak will ever be. My dad has never steered me wrong, and I think that I should cancel this flight lesson out of respect for him and what he would say.

“You need to fly, Majd. I want you to escape from this depressing state of mind.”, my aunt told me.

Well yeah, I do need to get my mind off of stuff, but suppressing the loss of the most important person in my life… is unreal. That’s like not reacting along with a nose dive, and not trying to correct it.

“You still have it, Majd,” my aunt told me.

If I still have it, then why couldn’t I remember a page of the Airplane Flying Handbook? I don’t want this lesson to be the thing that ruins fourteen months of hard work. I want to feel ready for this lesson. The problem is that I don’t feel ready. I’m not sure if it will take me a month, a year, or a century to get back to feeling my best. But when that does happen, I’ll start doing what I love again.

(really excited tone) You know what, screw it. SCREW IT! It will be a lot more worthwhile if I go up and have fun. My depression is bad enough! I know I will be closer to my father in the air, then here, sitting on my ass in bed crying. Who cares if my instructor has to take over? I’m sure he will understand and respect everything I do. Heck, I could even take cousin Riley, who has been there for me every step of the way. Dadio wants to see him as much as he wants to see me. I’m sure my instructor is going to understand what I’m going through.

“Dadio, I found a better way to get up there and spend time with you!” “Let’s fly! Riley’s coming too!”

starts crying once more