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’
Inside was a handcrafted scrapbook bound in navy cloth.
A paper airplane had been stitched across the cover.
Each passenger from our flight had been given a page.
Their boarding pass was attached beside a handwritten note.
A man wrote about the brother he had lost.
Inside was a handcrafted scrapbook bound in navy cloth.
The teenager who cried wrote:
I get panic attacks on planes. Today I forgot to be afraid because I was watching you wave.
We turned page after page.
Some notes were long.
Others held one sentence.
Thank you for reminding me to imagine somewhere better.
Some notes were long.
Near the end, we found Captain Harris’s page. Beside his pass, he had written:
Pilots are taught to trust instruments when clouds hide the horizon. Children like you remind us to trust hope for the same reason.
Mike traced the ink with one finger.
Then Stella turned to the final page.
A crayon drawing rested beneath a clear protective sheet.
Children like you remind us to trust hope for the same reason.
The paper was creased. The airplane had one large wing and three floating windows.
Mike’s original boarding pass.
The one he had made for Nolan.
A nurse had saved it after Nolan completed treatment and went home.
Beneath it were the words:
Hope sometimes arrives before the plane does.
The airplane had one large wing and three floating windows.
Mike stared at the drawing for a long time.
His fingers rested on the plastic cover.
“Dad?”
