It was hard to believe that he’d ever been unable to fly.
Once, when his hair was blond, Abel had never even seen a plane before. Then, after Pearl Harbor, everything changed, and he was pulled from his farm and his family and shipped off to a field in Texas. It was there that he’d first seen a plane. They called it a BT-13 Valiant, and it was the most beautiful machine he’d ever seen. It was blue and gold, with stars on the wings, and she gleamed in the light of the summer sun.
Behind her controls, he’d parted ways with the earth, and soared into the sky. A lot happened after that; he’d been shot at over Germany, shot at over the Pacific. He’d done his part and, when it was all over, he’d gone back to Indiana.
He hadn’t flown in years, hadn’t seen his old Valiant in longer than that. Yet now, gazing up at those same gold wings, he remembered how it felt to be free.