The yellow glow of our interior house lights created sharp contrast against the navy night that had fallen outside. My husband, fairly sick with a cold, was laying on our cheap rug in the living room with our 3-month-old daughter on his belly, helping her with tummy time. Our two boys’ giggled and shouted as they tossed paper airplanes. The flimsy aircraft flew from one end of our living room to the other. A petite smile crept to my lips, and I thought: goddamn I love this. How lucky I am. It’s worth it.

Our eldest son had been begging to make paper airplanes for days, and that night we finally got out the construction paper. I started folding with no plan, and about 10 seconds in realized I had no idea what I was doing and wanted (needed) clear instructions. I pulled up a quick Youtube video and carefully made a paper airplane to the video’s specifications. It flew pretty well; I was quite proud of myself, really. My son was more or less pleased. But then it started getting bent and stopped getting the distance he wanted.

Enter Dad: he folds the paper any which way, no Youtube video, and it literally SOARS through the air and my child squeals with delight. Typical. But this is why my husband and I are such a perfect pair: we are both creative, intellectual, free spirits, and thinkers, but I am the rule follower, and he is a risk-taker. I got the project started, Dad finished it with flair. I love us.

The more the paper aircraft glided, swooped, and slide-crashed across our dirty wood floors, the more bent and wonky they each became (yes, even Dad’s). Paper airplanes don’t last forever. Nothing does: not innocence, not childhood, not difficult seasons, not pandemics. These things too shall fly on eventually.

These quickly-crafted, wafer-thin airplanes brought my boys entertainment, frustration, and joy, along with lessons in research and development and patience. As the paper planes soared past me while I lugged the vacuum across the kitchen floor, they reminded me of my blessings, of the fragility of life itself, of the importance of savoring joy even if it’s fleeting; that even when we don’t feel worth much and we’re bent out of shape, even when the runway is littered with obstacles and the trajectory isn’t quite clear, we can still find it within ourselves to soar.