Thursday, June 20, 2002

Summer's here. Leaving Costco with an oversized receipt, I suddenly remembered how much I used to enjoy fluttering paper in the wind. I would tie strands of crepe to my bike, or pull a length of printer tape behind me on a string. I remember a kite contest. We climbed near the cemetery on the west hill overlooking town, where the wind blew strongly, a little dusty, with the sagebrush clumping beside the road. Was it one of those competitions where everyone ends with a prize? I only remember the judge's skeptical look as my very small diamond twisted its string following my fingers in circles, the wind on my skin, and long streamers fluttering.

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