Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • 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.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.