I spent the next few minutes explaining everything I knew about airplanes — how they stay in the sky, how pilots communicate, why the wings tilt during takeoff. His eyes lit up like fireworks. The kicking stopped, replaced by questions — thoughtful ones this time, filled with wonder.

When the flight attendant passed by again, I asked if the boy could visit the cockpit after we landed. To my surprise, she smiled and said she’d check with the captain.

Two hours later, as we touched down, the captain personally invited the boy to take a quick look inside. His mother’s eyes filled with tears as she whispered, “No one’s ever done something like this for him.”

The boy looked back at me before walking toward the cockpit, whispering, “Thank you.”

The Lesson I Didn’t Expect to Learn

When the plane emptied and the engines quieted, I realized something had shifted inside me.
That morning, I’d boarded the flight thinking only of my own exhaustion — my need for silence, my right to rest. But that boy reminded me of something I’d lost: the wonder of first times.