Brave Little Blue

At Sunny Field Airport, a small blue airplane hummed by the fence. His name was Little Blue. He loved smooth mornings when the grass smelled like lemons and the runway shone like a ribbon.

"Good day, Little Blue," said Pilot Ana, patting his shiny nose. "We have a special trip. A red kite needs to reach Breezy Beach before the parade."

Little Blue saw the windsock named Socks dancing in the wind. Socks flapped left, then right. The flags at the hangar clapped. Little Blue's wingtips wiggled. He felt wobbly inside.

"I like quiet air," he whispered.

Ana climbed into the cockpit and smiled. "We can be brave together. When we feel wobbly, we breathe. Slow breaths, steady hands."

Tower Tim crackled over the radio. "Winds gusty. You two okay?"

"We'll try," said Ana. "Little Blue and I are steady."

They rolled toward the runway. The world was bright and busy. Grass swished. Gulls wheeled above the field. A little boy at the fence waved. In the seat behind Ana, the red kite peeked out of its box, its tail dotted with golden bows.

A big puff pushed Little Blue sideways. "Eep!" he squeaked.

Ana patted the dashboard. "Feet on the pedals, friend. Nose straight, wings level. One, two, three."

Little Blue took a breath. He remembered Socks' dance and pointed his nose into the push. His wheels rumbled faster. The runway ribbon slid beneath them—and then they were up.

The air bumped them like a friendly puppy. Little Blue lifted one wing, then the other. "I don't think I can," he said.

"You are doing it," said Ana. "Listen to the wind. It says, 'Lean a little, hold a little.'"

They flew over fields like checkerboards and a river that looked like a shiny snake. A V of geese skimmed past. The lead goose honked, "Strong wings, little one!" and Little Blue tried a proud honk back.

At Spruce Ridge, the wind curled over the hill and tickled Little Blue's belly. He wiggled. He wanted to turn around.

Then he remembered the boy waving and the kite with golden bows. He imagined it flying high at the beach. He took another breath. "Steady," he told himself. "I can be brave and careful."

Past the ridge, the air smoothed for a long, happy minute. Blue leveled his wings and hummed a tune. The sea appeared, wide and glittering, and the smell of salt reached them. Breezy Beach was ahead—so was the gusty runway.

Socks lived here too, taller and even flappier, pointing across the sand. Tower Tia called, "Runway two-seven. Wind from the left. Welcome, Little Blue!"

Little Blue lined up. The wind poked his side. His left wheel wanted to land first, but his right wheel complained. He felt the wiggles grow.

"This one is too wobbly," said Ana. "We go around."

Up they went, circling over the colorful tents and tiny crabs skittering by the water. Little Blue's engine sounded stronger. He liked that he could try again.

"Second try," Ana said. "Small tilt into the wind. Tail straight. You know the dance."

"I know the dance," Little Blue whispered. He tilted a little toward the push. He kept his nose straight with careful feet. His wings were steady like a table. The runway ribbon grew big.

Tap. Tap. Kiss. His wheels touched down gentle as a feather. They rolled to a stop with a happy squeak.

On the sand, children cheered. The boy from the fence ran up. "You're here!" His name was Max. He hugged the kite box and looked at Little Blue with shining eyes. "You came even though it was windy."

Little Blue felt warm from propeller to tail. He wasn't suddenly fearless. The wind still danced. But the brave part inside him had grown.

"We tried, we breathed, we tried again," Ana said, grinning. "Good flying, partner."

Little Blue hummed a proud hum. Seagulls laughed above them. Socks waved and waved. After a rest and a sip of cool fuel, Little Blue was ready to hum home, the brave part holding his wings steady, whatever the air might do.