Sometimes I think about when I was little, and my older
brothers would take me out to fly kites.
“Give it some slack!” Will would yell.
It was almost painful to watch, that kite of mine.
Tethered to the string in my hand. Dancing in the sky all alone.
My breath caught in my throat, my pulse beating wild and
crazy in my chest. My heart soaring with every dip and turn of
the kite, as if I was flying along, instead of standing with my
two feet on the ground, squinting against the sun to see the dance.
What if it fell?
What if the wind took it away?
I counted the seconds until I could reel it back in.
I was that kite.
Fragile against the wind. Soaring one minute. Spiraling straight down the next.
Just looking for something to hold me up, before I spun out of control and flew away.
Disappearing from sight.