The kite was nearly new, having been brought back from a colorful shop in New Orleans. For many years, I had passed that elusive little shop on the square, but on one particular day about a year ago, the red, green, and black streamers attached to a festive, fat ladybug were too good to pass up. And finally, it would make it's first serious flight in the gusty wind off the gulf.
We baited our hook and let Nolan begin the afternoon fishing for whatever would snap up the shrimp appetizer. Ellie-Dot's tiny fist clutched the kite string as we carefully fed it out, streamers flying three feet behind the bright red-spotted bug. Her face brown as caramel, Ellie-Dot peered gleefully as the kite rose ten, then fifty feet in the air.
And then it happened. She lost it, just let go of the string with a hearty gusty wind.
And heavens, that kite flew! The red string skipped across the sand, three pair of eyes staring in shock as the beautiful colors flew unfettered across the top of a row of bright shotgun houses framing the back edge of the beach. The tears came fiercely and in torrents, a cacophony of wailing reaching my ears as I instantly flew across the sand in my bare feet, shedding all the weight slowing down my pursuit of the kite that I already knew was gone forever.
It was futile. The two children were still wailing, hoping desperately that I had a plan to retrieve their kite. There are some things that a mommy just can't fix, and the idea that our beautiful kite was gone for good, was just too much for their fresh hearts to bear. They clung to each other crying, the three of us mourning the loss in a tight hug. Finally, after fifteen minutes, it was over. Nolan and Ellie-Dot took deep breaths, and morosely wandered over to their half-built sandcastle and dispiritedly sat down in the sand in an attempt to cope with what was, in the mind of four year olds, a tragic event.
Some minutes later, I saw a young lady stumbling up a sand pathway through the sea oats. She appeared to be disheveled and a little tired, clutching her straw hat in her left hand. About twenty-five years old, she was small with dark hair that I could see better as she moved closer to me. It finally occurred that she was coming to us. She was out of breath and bent over.
"My"...gasp "My boyfriend..." gasp gasp "got....puff your puff....kite".
It was one of those moments so random, so unbelievable that it took several seconds to absorb what happened.
I could hardly believe my ears! That kite was long, long gone! The wind must have been gusting 20 knots, and it scraped the tops of 3-story houses when it flew away. There was just no way.
"My boyfriend saw what happened, and we saw your children crying. He just took off running until the kite stopped in a tree across the island. He climbed the tree to get your kite. He's on his way back and we didn't want you to leave!"
I was incredulous. Such an act of love and generosity just couldn't be true, and it couldn't happen to us. But it did.
Two minutes later, a thin, very lean young black man with dredlocks and New Yorkish square glasses emerged over the sea oat path. He was carrying our kite, streamers fluttering behind him. He also wore a big smile that I could see from the beach.
The children whooped. Ellie-Dot ran up to our new friend, Van, and gave him an enormous hug. He hugged her back and laughed unabashedly.
Turns out, they were on the island for Valerie, the young girl, to run the marathon. They lived five hours apart, and were very much in love. Sweet, fresh love. And kindness to strangers.
I tried to give them some gas money to help get them back to the Carolinas. They adamantly declined, on the basis, I suppose, that we'd return the love and the favor one day to someone else in need. We wished them well, thanked them as generously as we knew how, and sent them on their way with a plea to send their emails so we could stay in contact.
We flew our New Orleans kite all afternoon, carefully, and joyfully.
Our children will never, ever forget the lesson of today. That people are friends we have yet to meet, people are good, and someone, somewhere, when we don't even know it, someone has our backs. For that, we are thankful.
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