Flying

“Ireentje, Robbie. Go play outside. It’s warm and sunny—finally. I thought winter would last forever this year!”

Ireentje (pronounced Ee ʁain chuh) frowned and pushed out her lips. They lived in Canada, not the North Pole! Why would Mommy think such a thing? She put her head to one side. “Did winter last forever where you and Daddy grew up?”

“No, of course not! Why are you asking?”

“Never mind.”

“Hey, Wain, want to play hide and seek?” Robbie asked, pushing past Ireentje to pull on his shoes.

“No. Find Raymon and David. They’re your age. They’ll play with you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” Ireentje flung herself down on the soft grass of the front lawn. She stared up at the puffy white clouds in the blue sky. Mommy often said that some clouds look like animals. Ireentje intended to find one that looked like a cat.

“You’re weird,” Robbie said, riding away on his too-small tricycle.

Ireentje grinned at the sight of his knees sticking out on either side of the trike. “You’re weirder, booger,” she muttered under her breath, in case Mommy was listening.

Just then, the sun came out from behind a cloud. Ouch! It was now too bright to sky-gaze, but Ireentje didn’t feel like getting up—time to fly.

Flying 

Closing her eyes, Ireentje focused on gently lifting off. She didn’t even have to flap her arms! Just lift. Before she knew it, she was looking down on the red roof of her home on Waddington Street. She sailed over the ditch at the back of the house, scanning for wolves, bobcats, and deer. The wind rippled the long grass, but no wildlife could be seen.

Ireentje slightly tilted her body so that she changed direction. She wanted to look at the tops of the trees in the nearby woods. A squirrel, spotting her near her hole, flicked her tail and chattered angrily. Ireentje’s eyes widened at a movement in the hole. Were those baby squirrels in there? She swooped lower. Yes! Three of them! The mother squirrel quickly placed herself between her litter and this strange, gigantic bird. Feeling sorry for the brave but frightened squirrel, Ireentje sailed on.

What was that? Just above her head, she spotted a red sphere. It wasn’t a bird or the moon, and balls don’t float. Ireentje angled her body upwards and noticed a string and a stick hanging from the object. Just then, she heard wailing from the ground.

Balloon

A little boy was crying and pointing at the sky. Ireentje smiled and grabbed the balloon’s string. She swooped down to place it in the child’s hand.

“Mommy,” he shouted, running over to where his mother was bending over a baby carriage. “Did you see? A flying girl caught my balloon and gave it back to me.”

“No, no. Once a balloon is gone, it’s gone. Don’t make up stories.” His mother tucked the blanket more securely around her baby.

“Mommy, look!” The boy thrust his balloon under his mother’s nose.

She gasped and looked up, but Ireentje was hiding behind a fluffy white cloud and giggling. It was shaped like a cat.

“Irrreentje, Rrrrobbie! Lunchtime!” came a heavily-accented trill.

Ireentje sighed. The loudest mother in the neighborhood was calling. She opened her eyes, stood up, brushed the grass off of her skirt, and went in.

“Did you have a good time playing, sweetheart?”

“I wasn’t playing. I was flying. And, yes, I did.”