Neebish Island 2017: Kite Flying

Zadie stands on the top of three cement steps at the front door of the cabin holding the keel of a spider man kite—one of the many treasures we picked up at the Family Dollar store in Kinross on the mainland.  Santi stands ten feet in front of her on the grass with the roll of string.  She counts, “One-two-three.  Go!”  She tosses the kite into the air and Santi takes off like the road runner.  His littlest of little legs are whizzing past one another faster than Michael Johnson when he broke the world record at the Olympics.  Spider man is in flight and ascending behind his stubby little man arm.  His every present life jacket doesn’t slow him down.  He buzzes 15 feet past the flag pole—which Keith made from a tree trunk.  The American flag is bustling with activity as a kite-perfect on shore wind leaves its mark on both symbols of American exceptionalism in the air.  Zadie and I squeal with delight together yelling, “Faster. Faster.” He runs up to the overturned, red row boat my mother painted last year as her summer project, makes a loop somehow keeping spiderman from the evergreens and runs back towards us. 

When its Zadie’s turn, I run behind her.  She is more my speed.  I pick the kite up when it nose dives and help her take flight again.  She is the lucky one on this windy Neebish Island evening.  On her run, Spider man climbs and climbs—first past the bird nest that once held the famous baby that feel from its home; the kite makes its way through the olden time wind mill that stands between the tool shed and the outhouse affectionally called, Old Faithful.  I realize I have never seen it.  By now the kite is just climbing and afraid she will lose the child-friendly spool of line I help her let out more string.  I am mesmerized by Spider Man zipping through the air with the seagulls and Santi and Zadie lose interest.  For them, the climax of un was take off.

After kites, we do bubbles.  After bubbles we change into pajamas and make Tollhouse, premade cookies.  The grandmas are at Euchre so we have the place to ourselves.  This is a foreshadowing for what our final week will be like when I move the Living Lovejoys down to the a two-room cabin, three properties over.  I think just the daily walk to and from grandma’s house will help pass the long days.  Yesterda, I discovered that having the kids to morning dishes, cut the morning stretch by an hour. 

Still deliciously alone at the house—with no Fox news to contend with—or Karin worried about ticks—we sit on the cement steps and share one glass of 2% milk for dipping, and take in the changing colors of the sky at Michigan’s 9:30 PM sunset. 

“What colors do you see?”  I ask. 

“Orange.  Yellow.” Santi answers first.

 “Purple.  Blue.”  Zadie offers as well.

“It is so beautiful.” Santi comments.

“Zadie wants more milk.” Zadie declares in the third person.

“Mom, when I am a grown up can we all still live together.  You, me and my sister?”

“Sure Santi. We can live here at Neebish island when I am old and use a four-point cane like Grandma.”  The math hits me again, the repurcussions of skipping a generation and having kids at 40 instead of 20.  When I am my Grandma’s age.  Santi and Zadie will be the age I am now—not my mother’s age.

Zadie points out, as she does at every meal.  “We didn’t take seven breaths.”

We have a group hug.  We inhale and we exhale a few times.  And then ask questions.

Zadie starts.  “What is your favorite candy?” 

“Chocolate.” I answer sincerely.

Santi follows, “What is your favorite boat?”

The joy is in the asking for Thing One and Thing Two at this stage.

“The blue canoe.”

I ask them.  “What was your favorite part of the day?”

Santi lights up and shares, “Playing in the sandbox with blue sand and my new friends.”  The boy is an introvert and could seriously use some more company than the four women in his life—ages two, fourty-four, sixty-nine and ninety.

Zadie says, “The Mc Stuffy puzzle.”  She is referring to another Family Dollar store treasure we picked up in Kinross when touring the prisons and other local landmarks.

I savor this moment on the steps.  The chocolate smeared on our hands and faces.  Being able to look the seagull in the eye as it caws and flies overhead.  The deeper blues, greys, and reds over the changing skyline.