Remember when we were young and thought that by putting on a cape (who had a cape? Most of us used dish towels or small blankets or bath towels) we could save the world from the “bad guys”? We knew we really didn’t fly (I had to learn that the hard way by jumping from the top of our basement stairs) but by running fast enough we could get our capes to fan out behind us just like Superman’s. We were invincible. We were powerful.
Fast forward five decades….I seem to have lost my cape along the road of life. Little by little, it lost it’s magic powers. I no longer can fly. I am no longer invincible. I cannot save the world from the bad guys.
Some of you might say that’s what happens when we grow up and stop believing in superheroes. It’s the price we pay to mature. I think it is too great a price.
There are, in the real world, actual superheroes. They go by the ordinary names of Scott and Dave and Bill and Steve and Ruby and Gert and Nora and Nancy. Just like the superheroes of yesteryear, you don’t know they are “faster than a speeding bullet or more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound”. They are your friends, your neighbors, your co-workers, people that wear their superhero clothes underneath their street clothes. There are millions of them in all walks of life and most don’t even know it…until their special powers are needed. These superheroes need no phone booths or caves to change in. Their powers lie deep within their souls, ready at a moments notice.
I am grateful for the real-life superheroes, but I want to experience the thrill of that childhood hero. I want to feel powerful and invincible again. I want to run so my dishtowel cape flows far out behind me. I want to fly. To spread my arms out and soar up into the clouds and feel like I can take on the “bad guys”. To believe once again in the magic of the cape.
Tomorrow when I get home from work, I am going to grab a cap, put on some sensible shoes and go outside and run around my yard, with my arms spread out and I am going to see if I can’t recapture that part of me that has been lost for so, so long. I AM GOING TO FLY………
Photo of “Brycenman” by Melinda Mulek