I made a little book for DS as a Christmas gift last year. It covers his life, as he approached 16, and it’s a gift I think he treasures. I still love the poem and thought I would share it as I can see it being the basis for any minibook about a child and suspect it may not be a very well know bit of writing. Erma Bombeck used to have a weekly column in my home town Sunday paper and this was something I always remembered vaguely. I had to search for it but (as usual in this day and age, on the wonder that is the web) it was there.
Sorry the photos are a little dark and a little yellow, but I hope you get the idea anyway.
“I see children as kites.
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. You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday they’ll 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 the 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 together and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone. Only then do you know that your job is done.”
I just realized these are not final photos – at some point while making the book I got the text out of order (numpty!) but in the final version that was handed over (now somewhere in the dark and murky depths of my teenager’s bedroom, hopefully still in it’s protective box!) it’s fixed. Why is it I cannot properly SEE my mistakes until I see them in a photo?