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Knitting Fiction

Flight

Published on: May 5, 2023

Pete is holding his two fists tight against his forehead. His bottle of Dumbo’s magic feathers is clutched in one of his fists. He is sitting at his desk in his home office. Before him his laptop is open to the Facebook page for a man named George Miller. I can do this. Breathe in through your nose. Breathe out through your mouth. Take a minute to stop and breathe. If this does not work, you can take the pill. 

     Pete rises from his desk and begins to pace. The room is small. His strides are long. He paces diagonally from corner to corner. He continues to hold the pill bottle in his fist. Oh man this brings back memories. I have to remember to tell Dr. Waldt about my pacing. It might be important. I’ll tell him about how when Grandma died I started pacing. Okay that’s later. Right now focus on pacing and breathing. You are safe. As Waldt would say ‘You are a man grown.’ You are safe. These bad things can never happen to you again.

     Pete stops pacing, puts his pill bottle back into his shirt pocket and returns to the desk. He continues to study the Facebook page of George Miller. On the desk are a few photos. He takes them one by one and holds them up beside the Facebook profile photo. First his parents’ wedding photo. Then the photo of his parents, young and vibrant, laughing in a forest where they seem to be hiking. Then the photo of himself as a baby being held by his mother with his father standing behind them. Lastly, a photo of himself as a two year old being carried on the shoulders of his father in the bleachers of a baseball game. Face it. This is him. This George Miller is your father. 

The language on the Facebook page is mostly in German, some English but mostly German. Dr. Waldt speaks German, I’ll ask him to translate all this. But like Cindy said, these are very obviously his children and grandchildren. The asshole left us and started another family. 

     Pete stands up and again begins pacing. This time he makes only two round trips before returning to his seat. He rocks back and forth fist pounding. You decided to do this. Now take the steps and do it. Fly, Dumbo fly. Worst thing that can happen is you will fall out of the sky. You will survive that fall. But maybe you won’t fall. Maybe you’ll fly. You won’t know unless you try. Pete maneuvers his pointy fingered curser to the squiggly line of Facebook Messenger and taps it. He types in George Miller, then scrolls until he finds the George Miller who lives in Hamburg, Germany. He types out, “I am Peter Miller. I believe I am your son. I want to talk to you. Would you please respond to me?” Pete touches the return key, abruptly stands up and pounds his chest. He grasps his hands together above his head and pumps them up and down. He holds his two thumbs up and turns in circles. He reaches around and pats himself on the back with one hand and then the other. He picks up his phone and texts Cindy, “I did it!”

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