My best friend saw a dragon kite in a thrift store today. Texted me a picture and said: “I don’t know why this reminds me of you.”
I do … if you don’t mind me getting a little ‘woo’.
All my life – the simplicity and beauty of kites have fascinated me. In the same form as others love planes or birds … my flying machine of choice is a kite.
Emerald diamonds as pinpoints in the sky, over the ocean. My father’s hands: his engineer’s hands making them dance and dive, swoop and soar with the tiniest of movements. His feet planted in the sand, his beer in one hand and the string in the other. His grin dancing with his eyes, dancing with the kite. Good Lord, I haven’t thought of that in years.
The pull of the strings in my own hands. Bumblebees and mighty dragons and Asian box kites. Pulling my heart up into the sky. Soaring and leaving my trivial pain on the ground.
Putting the taught line into the hands of my own children. Long ago … really long ago. Running and lifting and enticing the stubborn kite to fly. Feeling the wind take it … my children meeting my boyhood heart up there, up there.
“Over the lights, under the moon.” ~ Kate Bush
Thank You for soothing my troubled heart for awhile. The kite found You, so You could unlock these memories.