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David Tow headed, with a field of freckles surrounding his big grin and inquisitive look, he ran across the yard. The kite behind him tried valiantly to soar up to the clouds. Again and again he ran, never giving up the kite bumping, lifting, wheeling 'round and diving again for the earth, hitting bumping, and finally breaking in two. Swallowing hard, he held it out to me. "Can you fix it?" he asked, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I tried, but could not help the kite to fly again up to the sky. Today, I look for him, that little golden boy sailing his kite up in the sky. The Master of all Craftsman took his lonely soul back home, fixed what man could not, and set him free to soar high up in the clouds at last. |
Additional Notes:
This little boy lost his battle with addiction at age 41. Someone needed to honor his struggle.
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