Sitting outside, it seemed even the coffee swirled inside the cup, the wind was so strong. Holding those whose hearts are heavy upon my own, the whisper of ‘kite’ rode upon the wind. I am 58 and have never flown a kite. I giggled and drank my coffee. ‘Kite’ the wind whispered as the neighbor’s sprinklers danced and bent. This time I listened.
Off to the one store where I thought they might be, only one was left, waiting for me. And then I became afraid. My eyes are not good and my hand tremors and stutters and cannot grasp. As the nice man took my money, with shy eyes I asked if he would help. As I stuffed my stuttering hand back into my pocket, unseen, his face softened and he put it together and tied the string.
To the lake I went. Holding the kite against my body, my back to the wind, I unraveled the string. As I turned, releasing my grip I released the drowning, heaviness, death, and silence gathered around those faces upon my heart. With a whoosh and jerk the kite soared, almost taking me with it. I whispered “Please” to the sweet Hands of Life, “Hold still my hand, the wind and kite. One picture please to remember.” And Life giggled back, as she drew the kite closer to her own heart. “Two pictures my child. One for you. And one for those who now fly into my embrace.”
I am 58 and still do not know how to fly a kite. A stranger’s compassion became my hands. My body turned to face the sun, the wind pushed me back and I loved with laughter and sweet tears…and Life accepted the gift.