A soft rumble, I hear, on the blurry horizon, obscured by jade foliage and a mosaic of glazed glass and crimson bricks.
I race to the camera, scrambling up the stairs, avoiding stretched-out cats so inconveniently placed in their slumber.
“Ah”, I say as I finally find the camera lying on the pine dresser, the now ear-splitting howl of the engines reassure me it’s close.
Racing down the stairs, hurdling over dazed cats, I crash through the door and find the majestic aircraft effortlessly glide over the tree line.
For one second I think I can see the pilot, in the glinting glass cockpit, hunched over controls.
But as soon as I set gaze on the avocado green Pegasus and its blurring rotors, it’s gone.
The stubby and wide tail is all that’s visible. I’m speechless, not only because of its history and beauty, but because it has a friend... the only two flying Lancasters have just flown over my house!
Ryan Mcfahn, age 12