Our Family Was Flying on a Make-a-Wish Trip for My Ill Son – Halfway Through the Flight, the Pilot Said, ‘Mike, There’s One Thing About This Trip That You and Your Parents Know Nothing About’
Mike leaned toward the aisle.
“That was just our game.”
The captain seemed to answer him.
“Mike never realized what he started.”
A pediatric nurse shared the story with a volunteer. The volunteer passed it to a charity that worked with airlines carrying Wish families.
“Mike never realized what he started.”
Flight crews began hearing about the boy who gave children boarding passes before he had ever boarded a real plane.
Then came the part none of us knew.
“For several months,” Captain Harris added, “one handmade boarding pass has traveled in the cockpit of every Wish flight operated by our program.”
Dana opened the cockpit door just far enough to lift a laminated paper.
Then came the part none of us knew.
Even from 12 rows away, I could see the faded blue airplane.
“It reminds us that hope often begins before takeoff,” the captain said.
I leaned back into the thin fabric of the headrest, completely pinned by his words.
The tradition had spread beyond our hospital.
Beyond the children Mike knew.
And beyond anything he could have imagined from a box of crayons balanced on his knees.
The tradition had spread beyond our hospital.
“When our crew received today’s passenger list and saw Mike’s name, one of our coordinators contacted his nurses.”
Dana moved slowly down the aisle.
She held a photograph in both hands.
It showed a hospital bulletin board covered in paper boarding passes. Children stood beneath them wearing masks and pajamas. In the center was Nolan.
He held the moon pass Mike had drawn.
“One of our coordinators contacted his nurses.”
The captain’s voice softened.
“Today is the first time every passenger on one of these flights has carried a pass.”
All around us, strangers held the little papers in their laps.
A man across the aisle wiped his glasses with his shirt.
The woman behind us pressed her pass against her mouth.
A teenager near the window was crying openly.
All around us, strangers held the little papers in their laps.
Mike looked frightened by their faces.
“Did I make them sad?”
Stella turned toward him so quickly her seat belt pulled tight.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Then why are they crying?”
I tried to answer.
I couldn’t.
“Then why are they crying?”
