Memories Rewind: Kite Day
I've asked my friend Katie Griffin to do a guest post for Memories Rewind today. Go on over to Katie's blog The Greatest is Love and welcome her. She is finishing up college, so she hasn't had much time to blog. But I know she would love to read your comments. Enjoy!
As a seven year old little girl, the event of the year was Kite Day. My dad and I would go to the hardware store and buy the plastic, wood, paint and string needed to build a kite. Then my brother, Isaac, and my older sister, Lauren, would race us down to the basement to see who could finish making their kite first. It was never a real contest because there were three of us and only one dad, and we couldn’t do it without dad’s help.
As dad glued the sticks together to make the frame we would unroll the plastic and try to drape it across the wooden sticks just right so we could get to our favorite part of kite making- painting. We got to choose three of our favorite colors and mine were pink, purple and green. Last year we just had swirls of color on our kites but this year was extra special because dad helped us make stencils so that our names could be on our kites along with a few hearts and flowers. As my dad held down the stencils, I poured my heart out on that kite in colorful rows of pink and green. I saved the purple for the hearts and flowers that floated around my name. When the last dab of color had been added to the plastic we stepped back and both mine and my dad’s brows wrinkled as our eyes were wide with joy. “Good job, Kate” he said as we carefully picked the kite up and carried it outside to dry underneath the sun’s rays.
A few hours later we had changed from our paint-covered clothes and put the dry kites in the back of the truck and were on our way to my favorite event of the year. We arrived at our church and unloaded the food and the kites and made our way through the crowd. Adults and children alike eyed my prized kite. The wind picked up, blowing my blonde curls all in my face, and I knew it was time to set this kite free from my grasp. Dad helped me hold it as I readied my hands on the spool of string. I watched as he took off running and then released it into the hands of the strong wind. For just a moment, I panicked, but then saw that it was flying just fine in the wind. Its colorful tail danced back and forth above me and in that moment I was completely content. I began running across the yard not taking my eyes off of that kite for a second.
A gust of wind came from the opposite direction and suddenly my eyes were staring at the ground where my broken kite lay. Tears filled my eyes as I carried it’s corpse up to where dad was and he assured me that it could be saved. I thought it was beyond repair, but he took it to the truck and pulled out some tape and glue and before I knew it he turned around with my beautiful kite completely fixed! I stared at him in awe because I realized that my dad could truly fix anything. After thanking him a hundred times, we released it back into the sky and I was once again completely content as I watched my colorful diamond flutter across the big blue sky. Kite Day had once again been a success.
I’m 22 years old now, married, and living two states away from my dad. But looking back on that day, I realize that I no longer can run to my dad when my heart gets broken or I get disappointed. Now I run to my heavenly father, usually with tears pouring out of my eyes, and He does exactly what my dad did years ago- He fixes it.
As a seven year old little girl, the event of the year was Kite Day. My dad and I would go to the hardware store and buy the plastic, wood, paint and string needed to build a kite. Then my brother, Isaac, and my older sister, Lauren, would race us down to the basement to see who could finish making their kite first. It was never a real contest because there were three of us and only one dad, and we couldn’t do it without dad’s help.
As dad glued the sticks together to make the frame we would unroll the plastic and try to drape it across the wooden sticks just right so we could get to our favorite part of kite making- painting. We got to choose three of our favorite colors and mine were pink, purple and green. Last year we just had swirls of color on our kites but this year was extra special because dad helped us make stencils so that our names could be on our kites along with a few hearts and flowers. As my dad held down the stencils, I poured my heart out on that kite in colorful rows of pink and green. I saved the purple for the hearts and flowers that floated around my name. When the last dab of color had been added to the plastic we stepped back and both mine and my dad’s brows wrinkled as our eyes were wide with joy. “Good job, Kate” he said as we carefully picked the kite up and carried it outside to dry underneath the sun’s rays.
A few hours later we had changed from our paint-covered clothes and put the dry kites in the back of the truck and were on our way to my favorite event of the year. We arrived at our church and unloaded the food and the kites and made our way through the crowd. Adults and children alike eyed my prized kite. The wind picked up, blowing my blonde curls all in my face, and I knew it was time to set this kite free from my grasp. Dad helped me hold it as I readied my hands on the spool of string. I watched as he took off running and then released it into the hands of the strong wind. For just a moment, I panicked, but then saw that it was flying just fine in the wind. Its colorful tail danced back and forth above me and in that moment I was completely content. I began running across the yard not taking my eyes off of that kite for a second.
A gust of wind came from the opposite direction and suddenly my eyes were staring at the ground where my broken kite lay. Tears filled my eyes as I carried it’s corpse up to where dad was and he assured me that it could be saved. I thought it was beyond repair, but he took it to the truck and pulled out some tape and glue and before I knew it he turned around with my beautiful kite completely fixed! I stared at him in awe because I realized that my dad could truly fix anything. After thanking him a hundred times, we released it back into the sky and I was once again completely content as I watched my colorful diamond flutter across the big blue sky. Kite Day had once again been a success.
I’m 22 years old now, married, and living two states away from my dad. But looking back on that day, I realize that I no longer can run to my dad when my heart gets broken or I get disappointed. Now I run to my heavenly father, usually with tears pouring out of my eyes, and He does exactly what my dad did years ago- He fixes it.
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