There are moments in life where time seems to stop completely. During these moments, you are fully in the present, recognizing how special and encapsulating this piece of time is. It is a time of total peace and sense of self, a time that is impossible to be anything but happy. I live for these moments. I can recall one of my very first "moments" as a 10-year-old.

My parents divorced while I was very young, and they did an excellent job of keeping the pain and hurt this process caused the both of them away from me and my sisters. The custody agreement was that we would live with my mom, and my dad would see us on Sundays and Wednesdays. One particular Wednesday night, my dad took me and my sister out to get frozen yogurt and, as usual, enjoy it in the car by the beach. We settled in the parking lot overlooking the beach before us and sat in silence as we watched the waves tumble and roar. The wind was so strong that night that our car rocked slightly with every gust of wind. Sitting there, we saw two teenaged boys run out and stand on the ledge of the parking lot; below was maybe five-foot drop. If one of them had fallen off, they would have landed on a stretch of concrete, and it would've hurt.

Upon climbing on the ledge, the boys tilted forward at a 35- or 40-degree angle. The three of us cringed in the car, as we thought the two young men were going to fall flat on the ground below. As if by magic, they didn’t fall. The wind was so fiercely strong it held them up as they leaned over the edge. Arms spread out, they remained still, relying on the wind to keep them up. We stared in amazement and all agreed that these two were insane. What if the wind stopped? As our expressions of disbelief crept into smiles, the three of us jumped out of the car and climbed onto the ledge. My dad was first, trust falling into the air. Following, eyes closed, I held my arms up by my sides, and leaned. Feeling the crisp wind against my face, reassuring me that it wouldn’t let me fall, I opened my eyes and saw a moonlit ocean. I was flying. I explored the world below me, the ocean relishing in this wind, lights of the surrounding coast twinkling as people stayed comfortable in their homes, and nothing but a dark sea of vacancy before me.

I take this memory with me wherever I go, and I believe that this moment symbolizes the kind of life my dad always influences me to live. While I may not have realized it at the time, this moment held morals I would soon learn to adapt to the person I wanted to be. My dad taught me to be fearless. You’re not always going to be sure of yourself, and you may not know where you’re going, or who you are.

But if you have a chance to let go and fly... Fly.

Know there’s a chance you’re going to fall, but if the odds are at least a little in your favor, fly.

I looked over during this moment and saw my dad in total peace. All of the worries, the regret, the guilt, and the hurt I would come to know he carried seemed to blow away. That’s the thing about my dad. You would never know how hard he’s working with struggles in his personal life or work life unless he told you. He’s so strong, and has taught me how to hold that value. However, sometimes it’s OK not to be strong, to reach out and tell people that you need help, to put all of your trust into the world and know that eventually you’re going to be just fine if you keep trusting in the good.

When you reach a certain age, you start to realize that your parents are people just like you. That they grew up and experienced the same emotions, questions, and curiosity you do. I think that’s what makes your appreciation for your mom and dad grow even more as you get older: They managed to soothe your aches and pains while also seeking to heal their own, silently.

Regardless of all the logistics and thinking that goes into life, sometimes you just need to let go and fly.

Thank you for teaching me how to fly, Dad. I love you.