On the road and my hand out the window

I remember when I was little, I used to hold out my hand outside the car window. I pretended it was an airplane wing. The earth beneath me was moving very fast. My Hand would go up or down depending on how I tilted it. The force of the air on my palm would make me soar, and when it hit the back of my smal hand it made me dive. Years later I saw an eagle fly above us. I could see the tips of the wings fan out. The outmost feathers looked like fingers. So I put out my hand and touched the air.
I've grown now, I yearn to fly and I can still remember how to touch the air, but my window is closed...


I open the window, close my eyes, reach... and I am a child again.