I stumbled upon this poem by Erma Bombeck which nearly brought tears to my eyes. It rings true to me.
A slightly paraphrased version of the original poem by Erma Bombeck
Children are like kites.
You run with them until you are breathless.
They crash – you add a longer tail,
they hit the roof-top – you pluck them from spouts.
You patch and comfort, adjust and teach.
You watch them lifted by the wind
and assure them some day they’ll fly.
Finally they’re airborne
but they need more string
so you keep letting it out.
With each twist of the twine there’s
sadness and joy because the kite
becomes more distant and
you know it won’t be long before
it will snap the fine line
that has bound you together,
soar as it was meant to soar… independently free.
PS: Sorry for the lack of updates!! Exams here n I gotta study my lazy ass off hehee : )
Will be back as soon as exams finish! Ciao.