I wrote this for Kylan's Parallel Contest. It is an allusion to this Greek myth.
To escape, [the king Minos] Daedalus built wings for himself and Icarus, fashioned with feathers held together with wax. Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, as it would melt his wings, and not too close to the sea, as it would dampen them and make it hard to fly.
They successfully flew from Crete, but Icarus grew exhilarated by the thrill of flying and began getting careless. Flying too close to the sun god Helios, the wax holding together his wings melted from the heat and he fell to his death, drowning in the sea.
The Kite
A woman jogged by with her golden retriever, the cord for her ipod swaying side to side, and the gathering of pigeons scattered in all directions. Cooing in annoyance, they took flight or scurried under the bench. I waited for them to land again, watching the flecks of green and purple on their feathers flash in the weak sunlight. Fluttering back, they surrounded my bench, and I smiled. If I were only ten years older, people would call me the “pigeon lady”, I thought. Drawing my jacket closer to myself, I left the birds to their pecking and looked out at the park.
It was a crisp autumn day. Nearly all the trees were naked, and the sky was a washed-out blue. A wind that foreshadowed winter blew across the dead landscape, making the last stray leaves bounce and scrap across the paved path in front of me. It was a chilly day, but I had time to kill. I was actually quite surprised by how many people were outside today--runners, couples, other people who were just burning time too. Then I looked out at the great expanse of brown-green and spied two figures. And there, above them were two more shapes. Kites.
The two kites danced in the wind, and I watched them for sometime. I became lost in a trance, watching them weave and duck in the dome of the vast fall sky. I couldn’t remember ever having flown a kite. My parents never took me to the park, and I was older than Aubrey. Maybe I should have taken her to the park. Oh well.
I checked the time on my cell phone and saw that it was time for me to leave. I had a date with Mr. Marberry, my boss. Not a real date though, I reassured myself. I was just going with him to listen to a sales pitch. Apparently some guy two hours away had just invented a new, well, something. To be completely honest with myself, I didn’t know what it was. I was just the finance manager. Mr. Marberry needed me to tell him we could buy it and show him where to sign. Why I couldn’t do that at the office was beyond me, but I didn’t mind. It got me away from here, even if just for a few hours.
I sighed and stood up, picking my brief case up from underneath the bench. The pigeons hurried away from me as I started to walk.
“You’re fine,” I told them.
Some listened to me, but others took flight and soon the whole flock was up again. Caught in a flurry of wings, I covered my head and ran. For such dopey birds, they can certainly take off quickly, I said in my head. But even for the shock they had caused me, I couldn’t help but admire their gift of flight. If I could fly, well, I’d get out of this city, that’s for sure! Everyone says Florida’s nice, but I’d rather go to an island. Somewhere warm and secluded. Somewhere where I never have to worry about pleasing my boss or making the deadline.
My brief daydream carried me halfway around the paved park track. Now the path looped left to go back to the busy streets. I was drawing closer to the kite fliers, and I could discern the patterns on their kites. They were eagles. Better not let the pigeons see that. Up close, one flier was much larger and seemed to be advising the other. The path brought me around so that I could see their faces, and I found that the pair was a father-son duo.
“--more slack,” said the father, “see, watch.”
The father loosened up his string, and then sent his kite into a series of twists and backflips. The son watched as best he could while holding his own kite steady, studying every subtle move.
“See, if you give it too little slack the kite can’t do that. Too much, and it’ll fall,” said the father.
The son nodded and then prepared to follow his father’s example when a harsh wind came and threw both the kites off balance. The father rescued his, but the wind nearly ripped the kite string from his son’s hands. The boy managed to keep hold of the string, but his kite fell to the earth.
“You have to watch the wind,” explained the father, landing his kite, “and always keep a good grip.”
He picked up his son’s kite and showed him how to better grip the kite string handle. I walked by them and listened, keeping my head tilted away so that it wasn’t too obvious. This father was kind and guiding, very much like my dad had been. My dad had always told me to do what would make me happy. So, I’d gone to art school. But, I got burnt. It was too freedom, and I burned out like a dry leaf. I dropped out and fell into what my father called “the sea of greed”, the world of money. Well, things aren’t perfect, but they could be worse.
The kite father said some more things, but I couldn’t here him anymore. I was too far away. The city was just beyond this gate, it’s curbs and cabs calling to me. I went through the gate and entered a different kingdom, one away from the simplicity of a “day with dad”.
I flagged down a taxi, and opened the door. Taking one last glance at the park, I noticed something above the trees. It was an eagle. No, I realized, it was a kite. It was drifting further up, soaring over the park and into the city, but then it’s wind must have given out because it plummeted to the ground.
Poor boy, I thought, seems his dad’s advice wasn’t enough. A remark from the taxi driver let me know he didn’t appreciate me staring at the sky. I set my brief case in the next seat, climbed in, and closed the door. I gave the driver the address and looked out the window for the eagle kite. As the park hedge rushed by, I saw it, pierced by a thorn bush. And as it passed from my view, I looked over at my briefcase and realized something. He isn’t the only one who failed their father.
