Who holds the string - Part One

It’s a clear blue-sky afternoon
Perfect for the kite and me
My brother is here too but he’s a little guy, at least to me
I know well he can’t possibly understand the intricacy of flying

He’ll do as a launch aide though – he just has to stand holding the kite tip
I run ahead fast and lift the string and the kite,
Shouting, “Let go, let go!” Then the breeze of my run lifts the flimsy paper kite
Up, up, up - 'til the feverish summer air takes charge

There are other children around us, but no matter
It’s only me and the kite and the spool and the string
It’s hot and the sun beats scorchingly on everyone
Our mothers don’t know about suncreen yet

The kite moves higher and sways as though dancing
I feel the steps in my fingers and know that I am kind of in charge
The swaying connects me to the sky, it takes me into the blue of it
It smiles and sings - "higher, higher"

I shout to my “aide” – “I need more string, more string!”
I believe my Dad is here now cleverly adding on a new spool to extend my
Flight into the atmosphere
He knows how to do lots of things and string tying is one of them

The other kids have gone now and even my aide has grown weary
In retreat, he grumbles, “It’s my kite too!”
But, of course, he’s wrong
It’s just the kite and me

Childhood Memories prompted at
"Awakening the Creative Spirit" Retreat, May, 2009