FLYING
By Diana Tesky

It's a beautiful morning. The sun has just started to break into the sky, and there is a steady breeze from the south. I tune the radios and adjust my microphone:

 -- Casper Tower, this is Cessna 73764, holding short runway 21, ready to take off, with a right turn to the practice area.

 -- 73764, runway 21 cleared for take-off, right turn approved.

 -- Runway 21 cleared for take-off, 73764.

I turn the plane onto the runway, and double-check all my gauges. I set my heels down on the floor, so my toes are on only the rudders, and smoothly push the throttle in to full. As the plane dashes down the centerline I can't help but smile, and begin gently pulling back on the yoke, even as I lean forward as though urging the plane forward with me. It's almost impossible to tell when the ground has ended and the sky has begun as the plane rolls from one to the other effortlessly. Corey's my flight instructor this
morning.

 -- Excellent take-off, he tells me over his microphone.

I grin and begin my turn towards the practice area. Below I can see Highway 20/26 running east and west. I keep the highway at my left shoulder and can see the reservoir up ahead and to my right. South of the highway is a small mountain range, all the peaks covered with snow.

 -- Let's start with some steep turns, Corey tells me.

I make sure the area is clear with some shallow turns first, and then get set up for the steep turns. Adding a little power, I roll into a left-hand turn first. I can feel the g-forces on me as I keep a rivet on the nose lined up with the horizon and make the circle. I love the challenge of keeping my altitude, attitude and turn all coming around together. My starting point, a dip in the mountain range, is coming up and I roll the wings level, cut back on the power and finish my turn. My wing dips a little and I roll out as it hits the wake turbulence from the turn, and I roll into my steep turn to the right. The right-hand turn is a bit trickier, but I manage to pull it off. I know I'm grinning again.

Now we are going to do some stalls. These used to scare me something fierce " hopefully it won't scare me today. I pull the carb heat and start backing out the power, slowly adding flaps. Then, I raise the nose and keep the plane pointed at a small cloud in the sky. I have to add a lot of right rudder to keep her from turning to the left. My stomach is starting to work itself into a knot. The stall-warning horn starts to go off.

 -- Here it comes, I think as the warning horn grows louder, and then suddenly she drops in a full stall. Nose over, close carb heat, add full power, wait till positive climb, start raising the flaps slowly, a deep breath and we're back to normal flight. And once again, I'm grinning from ear to ear.

We follow up with some other maneuvers and head back for the day. We listen to the
weather report, and then I switch the radio over to Tower frequency:

 -- Casper Tower, this is 73764, about six miles to your west, coming in to land.

-- 73764, right base runway 21, cleared to land.

-- Right base, runway 21, cleared to land, 73764.

I slow the plane down, pull the power back, and add ten degrees of flaps. Once I turn base, I put the flaps down to twenty degrees. We sink down toward the runway, as I keep the nose right in the middle, then I cut out the rest of the power and keep the nose from touching the pavement. The main wheels touch down, and the nose wheel slowly sinks down until it touches as well, and we're down. And of course, I'm grinning again.

For the past hour and a half there has been nothing on my mind but that airplane. There's been nothing weighing me down, or stopping me from getting up in the air. The only thoughts going through my head have been remembering how to successfully complete the required flight maneuvers, and the beauty of the scenery. This is why I fly. I love the challenge, the beauty, the feeling of lifting off into the sky, and the escape into a world where that airplane is the only object. As I drive home, I slowly return to the
earth, but the feeling stays with me.

The lofty feeling remains as I hug my four kids and start preparing their lunch. It's still there as I lay my husband's clothes out for his shower, and it stays with me even as we arrange his physical therapy appointments for next week, schedule another dentist appointment and set up a time for a thorough re-evaluation with his team of doctors and therapists. Even a call from our lawyer and the addition of a few more activities onto our to-do list can't wipe away the joy bubbling over in excess from my time in the air. Once again my batteries have been charged. With a lighter heart I can again be my husband's wife and caregiver, and my kids' mom.

Diana Tesky and husband, Jeramie, live in Wyoming and have been married for eight years. They have four kids, the youngest two years old. An accident in 2003 left Jeramie in a coma for two months. He is now able to walk with a cane or walker.