Open Writing

When my son, Peter, first started flying small planes, he progressed, when he had enough experience, onto doing aerobatics. This was not something I wanted to hear about, and as he was living Christchurch, and we, his parents, were in Auckland, I was spared the details of when and where he was practising or performing in competitions.

He enjoyed the thrill, the adrenaline rush that barrel rolls and the various different manoeuvres gave him. We were on holiday with him when he was living with a friend and his partner and baby, and he persuaded us all to come to the airport and watch. He had one woman who wanted to go up with him, and we were to be just spectators.

The jaunty-looking red and white Pitt’s Special plane looked innocent enough on the ground, but when he went up by himself, and started flying fast, higher and higher, I knew what it meant to feel my heart in my mouth. I couldn’t bear to watch, as he went into a barrel roll, so I shut my eyes, and asked my husband, Tom, to tell me when he had landed again.

The friend got in next for her turn, showing no fear, just anticipation. When they landed, she whooped and screamed. She took some time to come back to normal. Next Joanne, the baby’s mother, decided she would have a turn. She was terrified, and excitable. She handed me the baby. 'If anything happens, don’t let my mother take the baby, I want Nigel’s mother to take her,' she instructed me. This didn’t help me in the slightest. I now had added to my fears of a crash, the worry of arranging the guardianship of a baby, just on her instructions made in the height of excitement and apprehension. What about the baby’s father, who was standing there watching?

Peter helped her into the plane, settled her in, got in the front, and took off, leaving me holding the baby. This time I watched, as the baby made me feel safer, in my arms. I wondered how her mother could take such a risk with such a precious little bundle to bring up.

When they landed, with Joanne on an adrenaline high, the first passenger was all set to go again. Peter looked at me. 'How about coming up?' he said. I just stood there. All my instincts screamed for me to refuse. But I realised this was some kind of test: of my courage, my loyalty, my trust in his flying ability. I noticed he hadn’t asked his father.

'Only if you don’t turn the plane upside down,' I said. He just laughed. Getting in, I came to the conclusion that if I died, he would probably die as well, and I wouldn’t be alone on that mysterious journey, if indeed there was anywhere to journey to, which I often doubted.

He put headphones on my ears, saying I could speak to him if I wanted to. So we took off. He went quite slowly for a while, and I looked down at the airfield, at the others, looking like miniature people. With the wind and the roaring of the engine, I didn’t realise he was starting to make a manoeuvre. 'What are you doing,' I screamed, as the earth started tilting.

'Just a barrel roll, relax,' he screamed back.

I shut my eyes as my stomach threatened to leave my body, and giddiness whirled around me. For once the thought of death, dying, or being injured didn’t appear on my radar. I just wanted to get out, and be safe on the ground once again.

'Please, no more,' I tried to say.

'Are you okay?' he asked.

'Yes,' I think I said.

'We’re landing.' He made a smooth landing, and stopped not far from the others.

He helped me out, and when my feet hit the ground, my legs were trembling like a wobbling half-set jelly. I sat down on the grass, my heart thumping.

'You could have given me a heart attack!' I managed to say, but as usual, he just laughed.

I gathered I had passed the test, when he said to me later. 'I bet not many mothers have done a barrel roll with their sons.'

He gave up doing aerobatics not long after that, even though he had the ability to reach championship class. I must admit to feeling relieved.

© Shirley Henwood

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Shirley writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au