If I had my child to raise all over again,
I’d build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I’d finger-paint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.
I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I’d do more hugging and less tugging.
~Diane Loomans, from “If I Had My Child To Raise Over Again”
There’s a picture I have (unfortunately not with me) of me with my daughter Alexa on St. Augustine beach flying a kite. I love that picture. I guess she was about the same age as Ben is today.
Ben is the son of my nephew’s girlfriend. I was glad when I saw his eyes get big as I took this fancy kite out to the beach.
I also realized it made me think of my daughter. She’s in LA taking care of things she needs to do in her life. We talked today and both wish we were on the beach together. Still we recognize we need to be where we are…apart right now. She’s grown; an adult, making her own way in the world. I’m proud of her.
We used to play on this beach for so many years.
There is nothing like a child to remind you what it’s like to play, and be awed by a piece of colored plastic, string and the wind. I thought as I guided the strings through Ben’s hands, I’ve been here before. Ahhh, so familiar. So sweet.
Ben and I were both done with the kite after we crashed it numerous times. Our attention span was about the same today. That was fine. A nice distraction .
Kites, whether sticks and paper, one string or two doesn’t matter. They always remind you of your last kite, the one in the tree, or tied to a beach chair, or in your child’s small hands holding tight.
Kites remind you of childhood flown away.