And fly to the skies from your land
I go still, the knife paused mid-slice. It takes me a full second to realize he’s actually talking to me—that I heard him right. You’re in.
I blink, glance up, and there he is in the doorway like he’s just said something casual about the weather and not just set me on the course I'd been fighting to get to. My heart stutters in my chest, then kicks up like I’ve just been caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to—but in the best way.
"Thank you," I say, the words simple but solid. Honest. Then, with a flash of a grin and a lift of my chin, I add, "And if I do get air-sick—which I won’t—I promise it’ll still be less awful than the socks I had to wash this morning. You’ve already had me clean worse."
I pick up the next potato, and I find that I can't stop smiling to myself as I start skinning the last of them.
~FIN
The land that you love and all that you are
