A child stood wide-eyed, nose touching the fence, the roar of jet engines vibrating through the air, rattling their bones, igniting something deep inside. Massive aircraft ascended gracefully into the endless sky, time seemed to stand still. Awe washed over them, their heart pounding, not out of fear, but of a raw, uncontainable excitement. They had never seen anything so majestic, so powerful, so free. In that moment, they knew: this was more than fascination. It was destiny. Their soul yearned to be among the clouds, in control, venturing through wind and sky. Tears brimmed in their eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming realization that this—aviation—was their purpose. They didn’t yet know the mechanics of flight, or the unwavering dedication it would demand, but the dream had taken root. It was unshakable. The plane disappeared into the horizon, they whispered to the wind, "Someday, that will be me." Henceforth, every challenge, every obstacle, every heartache was faced with a singular focus—the sky was calling, and they would answer.