Monday, May 2, 2011

My Wings

When I was a kid I used to wish for wings. I wanted to grow giant angel wings and be able to fly around. The top of the trees especially. That looked like a great place to be. This one summer I wished for wings almost every night. I would go outside and wish upon a star, I'd lay in bed and pray for wings. I was doing whatever I could!

Every night while discussing with the skies my hope for wings, I'd feel my back and think I was feeling something starting to poke through. My wings. My wings or my shoulder blades depending on who you ask.

I really wasn't concerned about how wings would effect my day to day life. Who cares about day to day life! If you have wings you don't care about the same things that the wingless do. I mean, look at these Decorah eagles. (Seriously,  look at them.) They don't care about the same things as us. They don't care or know they're famous. They don't know humans all over the planet are watching their entire lives. They don't care what you think about them. Or maybe they pooped on the camera on purpose? 

3 comments:

Gary's third pottery blog said...

poop = CONTEMPT :)

Heather Reese said...

What Gary said.....lol

Kelly said...

I like the wings to fly. I remember when I was small wishing I could fly also. Had forgotten that.

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