Thinking of You

“Fly the wings of an eagle,
Glide along with the wind…
No matter how high,
I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

I first heard the song “Thinking of You” by Hanson as a 9-year-old girl who was crazy about boys and even crazier about music. Fast-forward 22 years, and oddly enough this song speaks to me more now than it ever did before.

One year ago today marked the first time I was truly on my own, living in Chicago. It was an unseasonably warm fall day, and I had no idea at the time how different life would be starting fresh in a new town, in a new job, with no family and only one friend—a high school pal who fortunately had lived in The Windy City for several years.

It was the day after Thanksgiving 2017 and my husband Scott, his brother Keith and I drove down here from Minneapolis. The two brothers hung around Saturday to help me get settled, but come Sunday morning… they headed back north. We said our goodbyes and I went for a long walk alone along Lake Michigan—I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I was equally excited and scared, knowing my new gig with Boeing would be an incredible experience, but being apart from Scott would be difficult to say the least.

It was my love of aviation that got me here—I’ve always loved traveling and the connectedness that comes with doing so, but more recently I’ve become fascinated with the physics of flight and all the magic that comes with defying gravity. When the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t turn down the chance to work for the greatest aerospace company on the planet, but at the time, I had no idea that saying “yes” to a job, meant sacrificing so much.

Long story short, I wouldn’t change a thing…. I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason. I knew going into this that Scott and I would only be apart for 18 months… and we’re already two-thirds of the way through it! If the next six months go by even half as quickly as the last year did, it’ll be a breeze. Scott and I are two tough cookies, but together, we’re like… a tough Oreo… double stuffed with… toughness.

Anyways…

Yesterday around lunchtime, after spending the long holiday weekend together, Scott and I hit the road… he dropped me off at O’Hare before continuing on toward Minnesota. The airport is on his way home, so we get a bit more time together on the 20-minute drive, and I’m left feeling a lot less sad and a lot less lonely out there with my flying friends. What can I say? The airport is my happy place.

After spending a few hours photographing the heavies landing on 28C, I headed back to the train station to catch the blue line home. The sky was gray and the streets were empty… I cried a few tears, and then started humming “Thinking of You.” Today, I was inspired to tap back into my musical side, so I recorded my own version of the two-decades-old pop hit. So, without further ado, I give you my best impersonation of three prepubescent boys, rocking out in harmony.

This is me.

I am brave, I am bruised,
I am who I’m meant to be — this is me.

Once again, watching “The Voice” inspired me to write because Kyla Jade just knocked it out of the park with “This is Me” from The Greatest Showman soundtrack.

That song carries a lot of weight and sort of speaks to me. I mean, all in all, I’ve lived an amazingly fortunate and happy life. However, we all have to deal with not-so-easy stuff from time to time, whether we bring it on ourselves, or it’s just in the cards we’ve been dealt.

This blog is supposed to be about planes, so I’m not going to ramble about any of the so-called “struggles” I’ve had in my nearly 31 years on Earth, but I will say this much: sometimes following your heart isn’t easy.

I followed my plane-shaped heart to Chicago nearly six months ago. I knew it was the right thing to do to pursue my passion for aviation, but it sure was hard leaving my husband back in Minnesota. I’m lucky enough to have a job that keeps my heart overly full, but spending my nights and weekends without my other half has caused many a tearful night.

I’m so over-the-moon to say that, despite having two more semesters left at the University of Minnesota, my husband Scott will be moving down here for the summer this Saturday. I felt like I’ve waited so, so long for this… words can’t describe the sheer joy I’m feeling.

And, to add to the excitement, today I received an invitation to my dear friend Branden’s wedding. Branden is one of many people I’ve connected with through our mutual love of planes, but one of only very few I’ve been fortunate enough to actually meet in person. Scott and I are delighted to be able to be there to watch he and his awesome wife-to-be Cortney tie the knot this July.

It might sound too simple to be true, but no matter how “perfect” life may seem… there will always be *something* working against you. In my case, I found my dream job in a city that I’m madly in love with, but sustaining a long-distance relationship hasn’t exactly been “easy.”

What I’ve learned, is that you always have to be looking for the light at the end of the tunnel (Scott and I WILL reunite) and find joy in little every day bursts of sunshine (a wedding invitation from a new friend, a good laugh at work, late night snuggles with feline friends, you get the idea…).

I am brave, I am bruised,
I am who I’m meant to be — this is me.

I was born a dreamer…

“All dreams start out small,

Sometimes you don’t know they’re there at all.

But I lay awake wishing on the stars,

All the while knowing in my heart.

I was born a dreamer,

A wide-eyed believer in things unseen.

I was born a dreamer,

Oh say you believe in me.”

Those lyrics are from one of my favorite songs of all time, “I Was Born a Dreamer” by Shel. And now more than ever I feel like those words ring so true.

I’ve always been a dreamer. As far back as I can remember, I’ve approached situations and ideas with the wide eyes, eagerness and often times naivety of a child. And to this day, nothing about that has changed.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been having a recurring dream that I, myself, can fly. Now, as an adult, that notion and those dreams are even more meaningful, because I know that it will simply never happen. Sounds like a total “Debbie Downer” reason to call something “meaningful,” right? It’s not though.

I mean… I’ll never be able to hold my hands straight above my head and launch into the sky the way I do in my dreams—but that’s what makes the dream so special. I love going to bed each night and hoping and praying that I might be so lucky to take a flight in those dark, quiet hours I lay in my bed.

The other night, however, I had a somewhat strange variation of that decades-old dream. Please, hold your applause—I mean… laughter—till the end. I dreamt that I was none other than a queen. No, I wasn’t wearing a crown… I wasn’t sitting on a throne… not THAT kind of queen.

I was a big, beautiful Boeing 747 and I was very obviously flying due East over the Atlantic. I climbed and I continued to climb. I was working so hard to stay airborne—for some reason it felt like everything was working against me, like gravity was even stronger than it already is.

The weird thing is, I’ve felt like that in “real life” lately. I feel like I am something big and beautiful… like it’s my time to shine… my time to fly—but I’m working really hard to make sure I keep it that way without crashing down.

Four months into my new job, I still love it so, so much. That doesn’t mean, however, that it hasn’t been hard. Being in a new city is fun and scary, starting a new job is exciting and stressful, and living alone is liberating and depressing.

I’m starting to think that the poor TSA folks at MSP think I’m completely bananas, as I usually show up with tears streaming down my face. It is really hard to bid farewell to my partner in crime and it never gets easier—never.

Lucky for me, Scott was recently brought on as an intern at an engineering firm in Chicago, which means he will live with me for roughly four months, before heading back to Minneapolis to tackle his final semester of school. I’m so proud of him and so excited to have someone to come home to once again.

I know there will always be both good days and bad days, just like there are always going to be both blue skies and grey, turbulent skies. The cool thing is that my intense love of aviation has not only made flight exciting, as opposed to utterly terrifying, for me… it has helped me to embrace and actually love hitting rough air. I love—and I mean LOVE—the chop.

All in all, I’m just hoping I can use what I’ve learned through flight (that everything will be OK despite the bumps) to help ease the pain of the tough times in everyday life. I’m not a religious person, but I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Tomorrow, and the next day, and even the day after that are going to happen… and I’m going to make the best of each and every one of those days.