It’s like when a plane hits the tarmac at landing. The only place it can go after that is back into the sky.
She saw blue above her, but she had let her wings rot. The smoky air and pollution of her surrounding had temporarily put them out of commission. But, she was ready to get cleaned up and get back into feeling the sun rays caress her cheeks and the wind envelop her outstretched fingertips.
Sometimes there’s no end in sight. The destination is a long ways off, but the path is open for a reason- so she can fly however quickly or slowly she wants to. Hell, she can fly backwards or upsides down if that’s her prerogative, because rules don’t exist when you’re in your own sky.