I Believed I Could Fly, and Other Deeply Held Writerly Convictions

By Mary Hannah Terzino

The summer before I turned four, I truly believed I could fly if only I tried hard enough. It was my greatest – and most secret– desire. My launching pad was the steps near my bedroom door that led downstairs. I would stand on the top step with my arms out, quivering, waiting for a sign that I could release my feet to float and fly down the stairs. I scrunched my eyes together to better concentrate, made my arms and legs rigid, lifted up on my toes, felt the longing...