It was late afternoon when the airplane carved white trails across the blue sky, writing a message in letters made of vapor. People on the beach looked up, pointing and guessing what the words might say. Children laughed and ran across the warm sand, their feet kicking up tiny clouds. Farther down the shore, a couple walked hand in hand, their shadows stretching long behind them. The waves rolled in rhythmically, brushing against the shore and retreating like whispers. A boy found a bottle half-buried in the sand. Inside it was a note, but it was just someone’s scribble, wet and unreadable. Still, it made him smile. Above him, the skywriter finished the message: “Dream Big.” It slowly faded, but the feeling lingered. The ocean, the sky, and the moment were enough to make anyone believe that maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.