When we looked silly

We looked silly when we learned how to walk. We stumbled ahead like tipsy penguins, arms outstretched, reaching for imagined hands. We fell on our butts, conned by our clumsy liars’ legs.

We looked silly when we learned how to swim. We flapped our arms and craned our necks, kicked, writhed, yelped. We made a terrible splash.

Heaven forbid a driven psychokinetic learns to hover in the air (just a few inches), but she looks silly doing it: slowly thrusting her hips like a cautious inchworm, or flailing like a gawky teen at the school dance, no rhythm, anti-rhythm.

I worry; one hilarious-cruel meme, one dumb comment from a timid friend, and she’d be too embarrassed to do it in the daylight.

Should you see someone teaching themselves to fly, please understand.