Flight School: Hunter

Memories

It is not uncommon for a child to dream about being an astronaut. There is a certain attraction dark skies and open space breed in human hearts, as though one could not resist the gravity that drew greatest desires closer to shooting stars and milky ways; orbits and planets; darkness and the moon.

The boy was no different from other children in that aspect, drawn to stars and planets and the moon up close—which he swore he would one day touch, one day reach after a long and tedious search.

Always looking for the moon.

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Luka Sullivan had always been accustomed to letting go.

It could have stemmed from the moving—that, or the frequency of change and its necessity for a heart that was light because a heavy heart was unwieldy to carry about in its cage and that was no attribute for a child to possess. No child would be in the right mind to deny the offer of new toys or new clothes; an entirely new room all to himself or an additional square of a backyard with a tree.

"Does that mean I get to have a treehouse?"

The boy attempted to wrap his arms around the tree in a hug and with this, his father could not refuse. Luka was not the kind of boy who indulged in the thrill of toy cars, video games or action figures. For ages, he had wished for a place high enough for him to feel as though he was apart from the ground—hovering between the earth and the clouds. It was enough to be in-between.

An agreement was to be made, however, for building a treehouse in the backyard meant that the family was here to stay. So long had Luka been hoping for a place between the earth and the clouds that five houses and many backyards without trees later, he'd left every child-like desire behind for just this one. His parents had found it the hardest of child-like desires.

It was the kind of desire that required the miracle of, perhaps, the moon.

"Are you sure?" Laura watched her husband pile plank after plank of wood into the garage, placing a toolbox by his foot.

He laughed. "The children are getting older. It's time we settled down."

"You seem to think our job easier than building a treehouse." The partnered knights exchanged a look of fair amusement, listening to the clambering of their children upstairs.

"Imagine growing up without a place to call home," the father prepared a plank for sawing. "I wouldn't want to let them down."

"That's not something you have to worry about," Laura shook her head with a characteristic roll of her eyes. "Look at them, getting used to it already." They turned towards the clambering that had somehow shifted to the stairs and the shouts of mirth getting louder and louder until their son came into view with a cardboard box over his head, bumping into his mother who stood in the doorway.

"Luka!"

The boy giggled and fell backwards, knocking into his sister who in turn knocked into the eldest. Together, they fell in a pile all over the kitchen floor, laughing and taking turns to wear the cardboard box that made their voices indecipherable. They sounded identical—all three of them.