I had been flying for just a couple weeks, proud of my new skills, but naive about them. For the record, I was still unskilled.

The day was very windy and the field I was approaching was just that: a field. And I screwed the landing fabulously. Fortunately, I survived, as did my employer/teacher's aircraft. The damage to my ego, though, was just as bad as the left main and left wing. I was young, stupid, and crying. Actual tears. I was not afraid for my life and what could have happened to me; I was horrified about what I did to the poor plane and guilty as hell about how I had screwed up so much by making a common beginner's mistake... a mistake I had been warned of hundreds of times just like all student pilots are warned. "If it gets wrong, go around." If the approach to the landing isn't the way it's supposed to be, don't land, go back up, turn around, and make another approach.

It got wrong. I landed anyway... sort of.

They say any landing you walk away from is a good landing, I didn't care. I knew my mistake. My IP knew. And I sat in the shack, crying.

He came to me, red faced, huffing his disdain.

I cried, "I quit."

He shook his head, "Ya breathin' regular, ain't ya?" He pointed to the tool box.

Life is just that, griffith; life. As horrified as I was about what my life had just become, the rest of my life was filled with... well... life. Full of good things and bad things. Yet, here I am typing words of encouragement to you. I'm unemployed (retired), financially in the pits, but full of great memories and looking forward to making more good memories... even if some bad ones come along.