“It just won’t fly. Don’t you understand? Can’t you see it’s broken?”
We didn’t need to hear it. We could see it just fine. Yes, it was broken. What they don’t understand is that we just don’t care.
Who are you to decide what the kite can or can’t do? Who are you to decide what we can hope to do with it and what we can’t?
It was never about the kite flying, it was always about us flying the kite. It has always been just about us. We loved the kite for all its faults. We were happy even if it never flew as long as we were together.
The problem is you can’t understand that. You think it’s worthless because it won’t fly. We think it’s worth the world because we are together.
So like little school kids with tangled hair who skipped school to hang out together, we giggle and laugh as we run around trying to make it fly. We jump and we dance and the kite falls to the ground. We run to it, pick it up and get ready for another go. We’ll scribble our names in air and laugh at others who can’t read them.
And throughout it all, we’re together and we’re happy. We’re senseless, and we know it, and we couldn’t care less.
We don’t let go. It won’t let us down. You can make fun of us and point the obvious, you can make the kite feel bad about itself. But you know what? We really will never care. We will run, jump and chase each other in the sand just the same. We will still love the broken kite for all it is, for it is worth much more than its ability to fly.
So yes, the kite won’t fly. It’s broken. But we don’t see it that way. As long as we are together, we can just keep pointlessly trying, and there’s no place I’d rather be.
The Unwriting 