Yesterday I witnessed a kite flying above the highway I was driving on. As it got near, it became apparent to me that the kite was not being flown by anyone. It was, in actuality, flying itself; the connecting line caught on a nearby lamp post.

It hung in the sky, gently supported by the wind. Climbing and diving across the clear blue background, the tiny, bright yellow spot maneuvered through the air with all the skill of an expert pilot.

I thought, "How fortunate that someone who lost their kite was able to, knowingly or unknowingly, create such a wonderful moment." A moment that could only last as long as the wind chose to keep it there.

I saw her face so clearly.
Amidst all the blurs, the bodies.
The people you'd recognize if you could just
grab a hold of them and shake the mist away.

She smiled, first looking at me, and then to her side.
I think I said something; though I can't recall what.
Even if I could relive that moment what could possibly have been appropriate to say?

I'd yell at her for handling everything so immaturely.
I'd tell her how heavy the guilt weighed on my shoulders.
I'd whisper to her about how cool the breeze was that night,
and how well it paired with the warmth of the bourbon on my tongue.

"Everything is okay," she said.
"Things aren't as bad as you think they are."

I woke up and deeply exhaled my relief.

I went to work.