by Erma Bombeck
You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground.
You run with them until you are both breathless.
They hit the rooftop.
You patch and comfort, adjust, and teach.
You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday,
they will fly.
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 grows 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, free and alone.
Only then do you know that you did your job.