When the Trees Dance

I used to keep a blog back in California, well before the Facebook days. Here’s an entry when Joseph was around 5-years-old.
He is now officially an adult, ready to peak into the world of his own. I know I could have been a better father, a finer role model, but hopefully, it was enough.
Unknowingly, that day represented our lives, running like the wind, but to no avail, waiting for trees and their mighty dance.

When the Trees Dance

We were on a mission to find the perfect wind, being anxious to see if the new kite would gracefully fly. We tried the nearby mountain first, at the highway marker 176, where they launch remote control gliders. The luck was not with us. It was as calm as the day at the ocean when the pelicans could not glide.
“Daddy, can we go to the airport?” Joseph asked, remembering what I said about the openness of the airport encouraging the free-flowing wind.
It was a nice drive coming down the mountain, with acreage of vineyard surrounding us.
We stopped at the end of the Airport Drive.
Again, the wind slept.
“Can I run?” Joseph asked suddenly.
“Of Course!”
I held the kite high as he took off, swinging his legs wide. The kite flew up for exactly five seconds, hovering only inches off the ground.
“That was fun!” Joseph screamed, trying to be heard over the rumbling of an airplane nearby.
“Yup, it was, Joseph. Indeed, it was! Let’s come back when it’s windy, when the trees dance.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Jonathan suddenly jumped in, “Windy day, when the trees dance!”


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