Grandma stared outside for a long time.
Oliver leaned closer to the window beside her.
For illustration purposes only
Instead of protecting the view she had waited twenty-seven years to experience, Grandma moved slightly toward the aisle.
“Come here,” she told him.
“We can share.”
And that was what they did.
An eighty-year-old woman and a nervous red-haired boy pressed together beside the window at 34A.
Just as Frank had once shared the row with another frightened child.
After landing, the crew asked us to stay on the aircraft for a few additional minutes.
Danny and Gene emerged from the cockpit.
Danny walked back toward row 34.
He knelt beside Grandma and opened his palm.
The old silver wings lay there.
“These belong to you.”
Grandma looked at them.
Then she gently folded his fingers back around the pin.
“No.”
Danny looked puzzled.
“Frank gave them to you.”
She smiled through her tears.
“He told you to be brave.”
Her eyes traveled over his pilot’s uniform.
“And you were.”
Danny lowered his gaze.
“He would have been proud of you,” she said.
Then she touched the matching wings attached to her purse.
“We’ll each keep one.”
“You keep his.”
“I’ll keep mine.”
Gene stood just behind him.
“Would you like to see the cockpit before you leave?”
Grandma laughed.
“I’m eighty years old.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
She smiled.
“It is.”
Mom was waiting at baggage claim in San Francisco.
The moment she noticed Grandma’s swollen eyes, she hurried toward us.
“Mom? What happened?”
Grandma set down her cane.
She placed both hands against her daughter’s face.
