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Kites(?)
I see children as kites. . .
you spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground . . .
you run with them until you're both breathless . . .
they crash . . .
you add a longer tail . . .
they hit the roof top . . .
you pluck them out of the spout, you patch and comfort, adjust and teach . . .
You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday they'll fly . . .
Finally they are airborne, but they need more string and you keep letting it out, and with each twist of the ball of twine, there is a sadness that goes with the joy because the kite becomes more distant and some how you know that it won't be long before this beautiful creature will snap the lifeline bound you together and soar as it was
meant to soar . . . free and alone . . . only then do you know you did your job.
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