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  • I think back to what seems like sweet times when my children were small and made gingerbread houses at Miss Kim and Mr. Crystal's house across the road for Christmas each year. They were always the best neighbors to have and so good to my kids in the small ways, the ways that are most important, like fixing flat bike tires and passing out armfuls of popsicles from the basement freezer to sweaty headed kids.

    Things change. Parents and families break up. Theirs did and ours did too.

    Now Miss Kim's son is a grown boy with little use for the toys that collect in his closet. But because she loves my children and the other neighborhood kids so much she will invite them over to play in his room among his old things she just can't part with yet.

    Even when there is no wind in the sky for an old kite to fly, you might see a village of children outside her front door screaming to the kite runner "it's flying...keep running, keep running, RUN!"

    I believe that under a thousand twisted suns and ragged little moons we all knew the beauty a breathless child at least once in our lives.
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