This time, Dad didn’t tell them to stop.
He straightened himself as tall as his back would allow and lifted one hand. It wasn’t quite a salute. It was something quieter than that, something between old friends.
I helped him into his window seat.
Then he reached inside his jacket and unpinned the wings.
I assumed he was putting them away.
Instead, he pinned them on the outside, right over his heart.
“For Claire?” I asked.
He touched them gently with his fingertips.
“For your mother, too.”
I took his hand and held it.
A few minutes later, the plane began to pull away from the gate. Dad watched the runway slide past the window, his eyes wet, a smile on his face.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
“I’d forgotten how much I missed this.”
When the wheels left the ground, he squeezed my hand tight.
And I thought about how quickly that woman had looked at an old man with a cane and decided she knew everything worth knowing about him.
I had been his daughter my entire life.
And even I hadn’t known.
By the time we landed in Denver, the wings were no longer hidden inside his jacket.
He wore them proudly, all the way down the aisle at Claire’s wedding.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real-life situations and themes. Names, characters, conversations, locations, and identifying details have been created or altered for storytelling purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental. Images associated with this story are intended for illustrative purposes only.
