I wonder if it's in all of us. An early desire. A fantasy. To escape it all. To be somewhere else. To leave it all behind. His fascination with planes and trains has grown the last six months. When a plane flies over us he stops in his tracks. Sometimes he even looks for them. He'll sit very still, eyes glued in the sky, ears perked to make sure he can listen for each detail the outside world surrounds us with. When he hears it, flying over us, he'll jump up to spot it. But spotting it usually isn't enough. It's followed with "I want to ride it!" or "I want to hold it!". I can pretend that this obsession with planes is because he's a boy. A young boy who's experiencing things for the first time. All boys go through this stage I tell myself, every one loves planes. But inside of me I know the truth. I know he's ready to be on that plane or train or in that car. A desire to see what's out there for him. A desire to take on whatever is thrown his way. A desire to travel his yellow brick road by any transportation available.
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