Flight Behavior

by Barbara Kingsolver

For scientists, reality is not optional.”

Dovey was one of those people who traveled in a medium-size pod of tardiness on which others came to rely.

Why hadn’t her parents had more children? As a child she’d never thought to ask, and now she would never know. So much knowledge died with a person.

“Remember when we were going to be airline stewardesses?” she asked. “But they don’t actually go anywhere, do they? Fly around all day and end up in the same place, bringing snacks to grumpy people, who needs it?” Dellarobia thought that sounded exactly like her life.

Nothing stays the same, life is defined by a state of flux; that was basic biology. Or so Dellarobia had been told, perhaps too late for it really to sink in. She was an ordinary person. Loss was the enemy.

“This is not a good thing, Dellarobia,” he added. “A whole new earth.” “I know,” she said. A world where you could count on nothing you’d ever known or trusted, that was no place you wanted to be. Insofar as any person could understand that, she believed she did.

She sobbed too, for nothing, it seemed. It was all impermanent, the square white corners of house and home, everything.

Things look impossible when you’ve not done them.