In my dreams, I could fly. A little boy, ignoring the science of gravity.
Somewhere along the way, those dreams disappear.
“Another beer?” My wife scolds.
“Hard day at work,” I reply.
She huffs and goes to bed without me, as usual. I drink more beer.
She doesn’t understand flying.
Del Griffith is a retired math teacher who reads and writes extensively and travels the state, looking for great barbecue and swapping tall tales with all the old men.
Well done.
Thank you, L.J. I appreciate you reading my little tale.
True for many.
Yes, it is.
Perhaps she too had a flying dream once. Excellently written!