The Kite Girl Who Also Skates

I'm a late bloomer:  I flew my first kite at the ripe age of forty-something, at least one that successfully made it high up in the sky.  It had nothing to do with my skills - it was an easy-to-fly, beginner Prism box kite, gifted by my dear friend Scobie, one of the original owners and designer of Prism Kite.  The kite was so easy to fly "even a caveman could do it," as the Geico Insurance commercial would say.  The experience was one of  exhilaration and excitement.  Pure delight etched deeply in my head.  It was magical.  


The Girl Who Flew The Kite also loves to inline-skate.   I am convinced that if a clumsy person wants to move gracefully, it can be achieved through proper movements with lots of good music. And lots of practice.  I am also aware that the older I get, the more clumsy I will become.  I am determined to move through life with grace, metaphorically and physically.  And so I skate. Summer and winter, as long as the pavement is dry, I do my hour-plus skate by the beach in a tank top or a jacket.  The arrival of winter means I will need to skate in the dark, if I want to de-clumsify my body and bad posture that is burdened by the office work during the day.

Still, it is a definitively worthwhile endeavor.  

November 1.  I skated for an hour and a half in the dark on this calm evening with the exact attitude I flew my kite:  Present, care-free, magical.  Joyful.  I skated to New Soul by Yael Naim, moving and dancing along Alki Beach with the sunset, then with darkness.  Even a rock would want to dance to that song.  I skate-danced, although my technical abilities reminded me that I should stick with the basics… There were people along the beach, but I saw nobody; I didn't care if anyone was watching.  Then strangers smiled and waved.  They knew, then they caught on - there was joy on my face.  And at that moment, they wished they did, too.  

That very night, I noticed.  The Girl Who Flew the Kite has returned.  She has taken another very positive step towards emerging from her vortex. She has summoned all her playfulness to replace her seriousness.  She is getting ready for November 15, and is determined to fly her kite, metaphorically, on that day.  And the day after. And December 15.  And January 15.  February 15.  So on and so forth.

I was incredibly thankful for my friend Ken who somewhat stunned me with his question just two weeks ago: "Where's the Daisy who flew the kite?  I want that Daisy back."  I believe Ken's question expedited Kite Girl's return.

I believe she may be making a permanent cameo.  And I have Ken and my skates to thank.  

Welcome home, Kite Girl.