For My Girls: Children Are Like Kites, A Reprise

Kites

The day is bright, my wings are spread. Cool wind, stupendous view and I kiss the sky. I open my eyes. Only if I were a kite. - Anonymous

Time, before so concrete, has turned to sand and slipped through my fingers.

The harder I try to hold on to it, more fall through my hands.

I'm suddenly bone-weary, aware of the morning on my face, the wrinkles on the edge of my eyes, the age that hangs on me.

I used to love smelling perfumes at Smitty's with Second Daughter.

I enjoyed shopping with First Daughter at Ross and buying color pantyhose. I relished those mornings when I would rouse her out of bed with, Wake up, little bluebird.

I loved it when they sang Arky, Arky.

I looked forward to going to the General Store at camp where Second Daughter went straight to the gumball machine. Or when we all played Uno, mispronouncing card colors.

Now, the toys outgrown. Clothes cast off. Bedtime stories left untold, all abandoned in my wake as the girls had run over eagerly into the future, away from childhood, away from me.

Part of me wants to turn back the clock and take the hand of the girls and eat chee' cri' and boowo at the Mexican eatery and get ice cream and catch the frog burrowed in the sandbox in the backyard.

Part of me wants to encourage and uplift and cheer them on to take risks and live life and reach for the stars.

Part of me wants to make sure they remember to brush their teeth and put on a sweater (don't they think I know when they are cold?) and to not cross their eyes lest an ill wind cause them to be cross eyed forever.

Part of me wants to laugh.

Part of me wants to cry.

And all the parts are mixed up together and jumbled up in a hot mess.

Time has seemed to erase all.

Where did the magic go?

I look into my coffee cup as if the answer were in there. Indeed, I see me now as if I were looking at my Mum on graduation day.

I've realized how my children are like kites, and I'm the kite flyer letting them ride upon the breeze and go whichever way the wind blows.

Finally they are airborne...

I keep letting the string out.

But with each twist of the ball of twine,

there is a sadness that goes with joy.

The kite becomes more distant.

Now soaring as it is meant to soar.

Free and alone.

So, like my Mum, I finally let it go.

My Mother's Day wish for you:

That you always ride high

 Just like kites in the sky!

P.S. You yourselves have now become kite fliers. 

P.P.S. Attention, First Daughter: 

You're being asked to come to the aid of First Teen Kite.

Soon after executing a monster volley and arriving home, he has just issued an alert, Feed me. Hungry!

Also, First Granddaughter, her big eyes vigilant and her hair flying in the air, is excitedly mouthing, Qui! as she gives a thumbs up to her taking off soon on a new adventure at Punahou.

Same advisory to Second Daughter:

Watch out!

Baloney Second Granddaughter is kicking competition out of the ring to win yet her next karate belt. Ki-ai! 

INSTAGRAM-WORTHY

We're all royal drafts of the people we're becoming. - Bob Goff

Someone said that life is like a box of chocolates. You never know if you're gonna graduate.

Hey, hey! First Granddaughter did it.

Just look at these instagram-worthy pics.

I think I can. I know I can. - Dr. Seuss

Pre-school graduation, Hawaii Kai. 2017

And now!

Fifth grade graduation, Kamiloiki Elementary School. May 2023

Congratulations, dear First Granddaughter!

Queensland, New Zealand. December 2022

Sending you these fond wishes:

Follow your heart.

Map out your own journey. 

Have the adventure of a lifetime!

Life is a great, big canvas

so most of all,

Throw all the paint you can on it!

11th birthday celebration, Smash Lab

Children Are Like Kites

Kites

And you thought I was out of stories of my Mum that I've annually resurrected for Mother's Day. Here's one from my stash of fond remembrances.

It was graduation day. 

I was wistful. And I looked like I was in a dream, sporting one of those helmet-like hairdos that looked like it could withstand nuclear Armageddon unruffled.

Here we stand. This is our commencement.

I was to be awarded a Master's Degree in Comparative Literature.

On behalf of the UP Board of Trustees, I am proud to congratulate the Class of 1971. 

Yeah! 

I had the sense of something I'd never felt before. That this was in some way momentous. I was excited and invigorated but scared, too, as I hadn't a clue what to expect afterward.

It was only six years ago when I marched toward the same podium for my undergrad baccalaureate. 

Since that time, I had pursued a teaching career at my alma mater. 

In the midst of that, I started grad school, giving up an East-West grad scholarship at the University of Hawaii for a local Rockefeller scholarship. I recall working on my master's thesis while teaching at my alum school at the summer capital. It was arduous and challenging.

But that was then.

On the recommendation of the faculties concerned and by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Board of Trustees and the president of the University of the Philippines, I hereby confer upon each of you the degree earned, with all of its rights, honors, and responsibilities. 

Wohoo! 

There was a brief, uncertain pause, and then the room descended into happy chaos. It rang with exclamations of cheer and applause. 

I knew that I was done.

I recall seeking my parents' face among the well-meaning, indistinct faces of the audience. Dadee's smile was brief and understanding. He gave me the slightest nod, but it was enough. Mum's expression was unreadable. It looked like a conflicted look of joy and worry. 

Graduates, be bold, courageous, and be your best. Your journey is never-ending.

The regent's voice was still ringing in my ears as I hurried toward my parents at the end of the ceremony. I remember breathing a measured sigh of relief, looking at them and saying, Hay, nakatapos din. (I'm finally done.)

I will never forget the look that my Mum gave me. 

She let her gaze fall on my face. She drew in a deep breath and gave a slow nod.

It was full of pride but also one of sadness. She simply said, Simula ka pa lang. (You have only just begun.)

She then embraced me. It was like a child's farewell, dramatic and desperate. It seemed like she didn't want to let go.

At that moment, I was overcome with a slow, sinking sensation, a recognition of inevitability - aptly captured in this poem that has resonated with me through the years.

Children Are Like Kites - Erma Bombeck

You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground.

You run with them until you're both breathless.

They crash.

They hit the rooftop.

You patch and comfort, adjust and teach them.

Finally they are airborne...

They need more string and you keep letting it out.

But with each twist of the ball of twine,

there is a sadness that goes with joy.

The kite becomes more distant,

and you know it won't be long

before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you two together

and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone.

Only then do you know that you did your job. 

I was like a kite that had been tethered for so long, but I needed to be cut loose.

All I needed was a bit of wind beneath my fledgling arms.

'Mie knew that.

P.S. A month after, I got married and moved out of the house. Almost two years later, I had a baby and emigrated to Amrika.

 

Let's Fly A Kite!

Kites

Runaway again fly for that childhood kite. - Chandni Negi

The sun was shining, the sky was a clear blue, and it was hot without being oppressive. It was the perfect afternoon for flying a kite.

That was what First and Younger Daughters thought. Pa, let's go fly a kite! Their voice rolled through with a warm glow of excitement.

I felt a soft breeze tumbling down from the distant Cave Creek mountain as we trudged along to catch up with the girls on their bikes. Looking out at the brilliant sunlight, it was hard to believe that elsewhere in the world, icy winds blew.

Out on the field about a few streets away, a group of children were already flying kites. The wind was blowing steady and held the paper shapes high in the cloudless sky.

Me first, First Daughter said, smiling so that her eyes became slits. Hold it, Sis, and when I start running, let go, she instructed Younger Daughter.

Resolve sliding over her face, she ran down, taking giant strides.

Younger Daughter followed, her arms outstretched.

They were tasting the wind, feeling the sun race ahead. For a second, it seemed like they could almost outrun them, the wind and the sun and their shadow at their heels.

The girls were grinning with delight as the kite took off.

Fly higher! First Daughter yelled all in one breath, her voice high with amusement.

Just as the wind kicked harder and briskier, the kite started to falter.

Older Daughter's voice became quiet and small. Oh-oh. 

Let the string out, Hubby was yelling, his face flushed, but too late. The kite had taken a dive.

My turn, Younger Daughter, said. Hold it for me, Sissy. T'will be a'wight. She was consoling with her usual charm. 

And just like that, the kite was afloat once more. The skin around Younger Daughter's eyes crinkled, her face lighting up with a warm smile. 

Just then, a powerful gust of wind started to rattle the pampas grass. It sounded almost like a whistle as it rushed up the lot, and smelling faintly of the earth. It caught up the yellow cassia florettes, swirling them into the air.

And one more time, alas! A crash. 

But you did well, girls, Hubby said like a Sunday School teacher complimenting his favorite students. Anyway, time to go home and eat, he instructed.

The girls shrugged and flashed him a sheepish smile. Tomorrow again, Pa? Pretty pleeze.

He grinned back, giving a little mock salute.

The wind had died. The afternoon had faded to a warm summer dusk, the sun making its descent in the west amid sculpted clouds, shading the sky in pink and orange.

It had been a great day.

A perfect one, actually. 

 

Saranggola

Kites

Gliding through the winds, tethered, yet free in sprits, the kite, in gray skies. - Anonymous

Raise your hand if you've ever had a day where you just felt bored.

Raise your hand if you have sticks, paper, tape, and string.

(I see raised hands.)

Then, you're ready to be engaged with this easy-to-build, simple-to-fly diamond kite. We called it saranggola. Technically a four-craft supply project (five, if you counted a smile).

Here's how we did it, way back when we were kids.

Create a diamond outline on your paper. Lay skewers on top. Put tape over the entire length of the skewers. Add small pieces of tape on the intersection and ends  to secure.

Punch a small hole through on each side of the vertical bar, just below the horizontal one. Thread through and tie off on the front side. Add tape over the holes to prevent the thread from shifting.

And don’t ignore the small things. Attach thin slivers or pieces of paper for a tail. 

Now to fly.

You won't need a lot of wind.

If you can see leaves and small twigs moving about in the trees, that’s about right. If you drop some dry leaves or dirt and can’t run or jog to keep up with it as it blows downwind, it’s too strong. Wait for lighter wind.

Sometimes it may take practice to learn to fly a kite. Just remember to reel it in a bit if it looks like it's falling, and let out more string if it starts to tug hard. 

So, what are you waiting for?

Go make a kite.

Harness the breeze.

Your feet on the ground.

Your spirit untethered.