Long before I could walk, talk or even hold a fork, I was launched into the aviation culture. Barely two months old, I was strapped into my dad’s Mooney airplane and began living true to my name: Amelia. On family trips, my brother sprawled across the backseat in a sloth-like slumber as my dad and I flew to air shows, formation flying clinics and sky reunions with other pilots. We defied gravity for inexpressible grandeur, beauty and excitement. The sky is where I grew up. The sky is my home.

This past May, I piloted my first flight in a glider, a plane without an engine and only the basic laws of aerodynamics to rely on. Not knowing what to expect, my stomach twisted with apprehension and excitement. Upon arrival at the airport, I met my glider instructor and we briefed our flight. I listened as she explained the landing protocol and led me to the SGS 2-33A Sailplane. 

My instructor provided knowledge and direction. The rules were simple: think instead of panicking; ask questions; stay alert. This is how aviation has taught me to approach every challenge. I have become a better pilot by immersing myself in the process. Scrutinizing the glider thoroughly, I learned as much as I could by studying it. Those slender, white wings were far longer than my beloved Mooney’s. I contemplated what changes in flight characteristics I could expect. My mind raced back to Wolfgang Langewiesche's "Stick and Rudder," the 1944 tome on the art of flying my dad compelled me to read as a grade-schooler.  Wolfgang could help me now!

Upon completing the pre-flight checklist, I jumped into the front seat, my instructor behind me. Pulling the transparent canopy down and latching it, my feet rested on the pedals, anticipating the thrust from the tow plane. Despite my quivering hands and excitement bubbling within me, the control stick remained steady. My focus was accompanied by the harmonious growl of the tow plane’s engine as we accelerated forward and took off.

Upon my ascent, I gradually became more confident in my control inputs and kept level flight. My efforts were rewarded by a voice from behind me: “Whenever you’re ready, pull the cable.” I took a deep breath, released the cable and watched in awe as it fell away from me. I was no longer tied to the tow plane. This was real. My engineless plane and I were on our own. Everything was in my hands. The propeller’s murmur, along with our thrust and acceleration, left with the tow plane. I was completely immersed in the moment.

Our lack of thrust required finding lift from air thermals. From my physics class, I knew to look for them along ridgelines or hiding beneath the clouds. My feet kept me centered controlling the rudder. That day, I was fortunate to have help from more than just Wolfgang. A shadow drew my gaze to the right where I found a new friend.

Shimmering in the sunlight, the outstretched wings of a red-tailed hawk revealed a nearby updraft. I yawed, swinging our nose towards the hawk's rich red feathers and delighted in a gust of air that lifted the fuselage upward. My new friend and I soared together in the quiet air, two birds reveling in our lift.

I commanded my internal rollercoaster as I circled below the clouds. Now was the freedom to navigate my own path. Exhilarated, I welcomed this, an experience I had only glimpsed before. My future, beginning with college, will be soaring without an engine. My whole life has prepared me for this moment. Ready to solo, away from home, away from my family, I will stretch my wings and find my lift.