Monday, January 31, 2011


B gave me a kite for my birthday. I haven't flown a kite in about 25 years. My mom and I used to make kites and walk them up the street to the high school to fly them. I can still remember her incredibly precise measurements and folds - I get teased about being a perfectionist because I am a librarian but really I'm a hack compared to her. Anyway, they are really fond memories; the anticipation building in the walk to the field and the triumph of getting the kite aloft, all of it suffused in the somewhat pleasantly melancholic mood that strong wind still makes me feel.

We didn't make this kite but it was still loads of fun to hike up the mountain here and launch it into the wind. Sunday wasn't very windy but she still climbed right up there. I like just holding it and feeling it tug on my arms. B likes to run around. Osh likes it best when we run around while holding him - kid seriously busts a gut laughing if you run down a hill with him.

Also, I love this.


Anonymous said...

She's a perfectionist?


queenbeehoney said...

Oh dear, I may cry. The only perfection I ever created was you.

Darling Whis, that was long ago, back when hormones ordered the universe.

cake said...

what a lovely post