It was a gusty warm March day,
and I had my two little ones
along with my nephew for the afternoon.
On the way out the door to the playground,
I remembered the kite we bought
a few years ago.
it took a moment to assemble
so long had it been since I had last flown that kite.
Once the parts were fit together
It didn’t take much for it to grab the wind
whose hearty puffs of energy quickly
bore the kite aloft into the vast expanse of blue sky
and I remembered childhood kite flying days
and the thrill of watching my kite
grow smaller and smaller
as the distance stretched
between my hand
and the bright colors of soaring magic.
I enjoyed about ten minutes of tugging on the kite string before passing it on to my nephew who did quite well manning the vessel. And then a child who wanted to take a turn flying the kite after my nephew let it careen off into the forest where it got stuck in a tangle of trees and briars. It was ensnared about 25 feet up in a small tree with no branches to climb to fetch it. The little boy’s mother said she was sorry about the kite but sadly made no offer to contribute to a replacement. What made it worse was that she had mentioned them having the same kite so she knew how expensive it was– between forty and fifty dollars–not a cheapo plastic one, but a beautifully constructed work of flying art. For the rest of the afternoon and evening I was nursing a pretty righteous grudge; if the tables were turned I would’ve surely offered some money as well as a sincere apology. My husband and I tried to retrieve it when he got back home from work at dusk but our ladder wasn’t long enough, neither was the telescoping pole with an X-acto knife taped to it that we were hoping to use to cut the string and free the kite. The air grew colder as the sun set, and my hands began to sting from the wind exposure. Sigh. No more kite. Another fine opportunity to practice forgiveness and non-attachment.