The Story Behind Airplane Me

What a weird title for a blog.

But it's not a weird feeling, enjoying the fall-but-pretending-to-be-summer-so-good-enough warmth of the sun on your back, running with your best friend through the football field for no particular reason.

Running not from, but for the pure thrill of it.

I spread my arms out wide and I didn't care that my socks were getting wet. I think that was one of the magic days where Georgie and I found more reasons that we were best friends--things we call twinners. We'd taken off our shoes and boots and I'd laughed so hard when I found out that our socks matched.

She was wearing, I believe, a blue sock and then a blue-and-pink striped sock. 

I was wearing, I believe, a gray sock and then a gray-and-white striped sock.

Even the feet matched.

So we were running, maybe, because it's nice to run next to your best friend knowing the trueness of the word best, from the thoughts in our heads down to the magic proof in our socks.

So I spread my arms out wide, as said above. And I said "Whee! I'm an airplane!" and crashed into my best friend, but we kept flying and she bumped me too, and we were smiling and laughing and one of our friends was being a soccer goalie and took one look at us and said

"You two are so weird."

And then I said it. Or Georgie said it, or we both said it:

"We're not weird, we're airplanes."

There's a pin, on her backpack right now, that I drew. It says I'm not weird, I'm an airplane.

There's a blog, that you're reading right now, that I made. It says I'm not weird, I'm an airplane.

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