Elena was fifty-two, and she had never been on a plane. Her son lived far away, and his baby, her first grandson, was three weeks old. She had a ticket for a three-hour flight, and at the gate her legs shook.
In the window seat, 14A, sat Theo, a boy of eight with a card around his neck, flying alone to his father. "Do you want the window?" he asked. "I've done this six times." At takeoff Elena gripped the armrest and shut her eyes. "Takeoff is just the plane running very fast until the ground gets bored of it," said Theo. She laughed.
Forty minutes into the flight there was turbulence, and the cup on the tray danced. "Don't be afraid, I've got you," Elena said in a firm voice, and took his hand. "I'm not afraid," Theo said in a very small voice. "I'm holding your hand because you look scared." They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
At arrivals her son stood with a small bundle in a blue blanket. Elena took her grandson in her arms. "I flew," she whispered. "I flew for you."
