“What kind of animal are you? Do you think you are really a cow, chipmunk, fox, horse underneath?”
Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones
Underneath my skin, there are solid bones, but I am convinced at one point air filled my bones. As a child, to get airtime I did backflips off bars and beams. As a college student, I spent hours watching hang gliders jump off Fort Funston. I wanted to fly! I had a piggy bank tucked in my bookcase that I filled with extra cash; I was saving up for flying lessons. A friend in trouble robbed my stash, and I gave up the dream of flight school. I still do think that I am a bird, but I cannot stand the sight of worms.