I thought I saw them again last night

I thought I saw them again last night.

We were driving home, my mother and I, just as the sun was setting. I could see the sun sinking into the horizon, slowly but surely, bursting color into the air.

My hand was out of the window, whistling through the air. I imagined it was me; soaring through the sky, my head into the wind. I swung my hand back and forth, in circles, all around, tilting to the left, to the right, dodging invisible obstacles.

As I looked up into the brilliant sky, I saw six specks rise above the sun, black against the deep blues and reds and purples.

I felt my heart lift in my chest, and suddenly I was up there flying with them, the wind, the exhilaration, the sinking sun burning holes into my eyelids.

But when I opened my eyes, I was sitting in the car; one of the seat's springs digging in to my back. My eyelids fluttered closed again, but I was still in the car. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I looked out at the specks again.

And I smiled.