The Total Reveal

“Sometimes I am a kite…

…and you hold the string.

Sometimes I fly very high.

And sometimes you reel me in.

When you reel me in too far,

I cannot see the sky or stars.

And when you let the string go free…

I have no guide; I lose my way.

But if you grasp the string just right,

with a little hold but not too tight…

…then I seem to know my way,

free to fly above the earth and sea

to see the beauty that’s around me…

…and free to love the one who

gives me the freedom to fly!”

from “Sometimes I Am A Kite”

As a writer, sometimes the words come before the story plays out in real life. Such was the case when I wrote “Sometimes I Am A Kite.” Let me share the story I lived that affirmed the meaning to my children’s book.

When I met Jenny at work, we became fast friends and had lots to chat and connect about. We seemed to be on the same wavelength on many different topics. As Jenny and I were getting to know each other, I was in the midst of grieving a relationship with Ryan, someone I really loved and with whom I felt a deep connection. Ryan and I had been friends first for a couple of years, then dated for 3 years, then we were off and on for another 4 years. When Ryan met another woman named Margie and it became serious with her, we did not see each other any longer and I worked on releasing the relationship internally. In the midst of my sharing my heartache about Ryan with my friend Jenny, she blurted out –

“You have to meet Paul!”

I returned with “who is Paul?”

“Paul is a guy I used to date. You would really hit it off with him I think.”

When Jenny said that to me initially, I wasn’t ready to meet anybody, and I said as much to her. It was also odd, that he would be an ex-boyfriend of hers. In the meantime, as months went by, I began working on a children’s book idea. I had written the story and was ready to find an artist who could illustrate my book for me or at least provide a storyboard so it could be sent to a publisher. When I shared this with Jenny, again she brought up Paul’s name. “Paul does beautiful watercolors. You should contact him. He’d love your story too. Then, who knows? Maybe you are supposed to do this project with him and connect on other levels too?”

It felt like a reasonable path. To call him and ask if doing the artwork for my project would be something he might be interested in and if so, to also see some samples of his work. I called him and he said he was interested in talking about it in person. He came over to my apartment to meet me and chat. What I thought would be a short meeting lasted about 4 hours and then, on his suggestion, we then went out for dinner that evening. The samples of his work were gorgeous, delicate, light works of art and just the style I was looking for in representing my story, but truthfully, I wasn’t expecting to also feel such a personal chemistry and connection with Paul upon just meeting him. We seemed to have a lot in common and we spent as much time getting to know each other as discussing illustrations for the book. I did, however, have my guard up even though I was feeling potential about the possibility of connecting with him on other levels besides teaming with him on my story. As time progressed and months went by, I was nervous and excited about the process. The process of how to work with him on my book, while also having these other feelings of potentially having a romantic relationship with him. I felt he was interested too, but he held back on other levels. Over the course of six months, I felt myself falling for him, and as much as he extended himself, he also pulled himself back, much like a yo-yo. To be clear, a yo-yo is a toy maneuvered by one person, much like a kite. My experience with Paul was mirroring my children’s story as it likened the proper way to fly a kite as an example of how “to be” in relationship in a way that is more life-giving. It was ironic to be living out the premise of portions of this storyline….”my storyline” with Paul.

Paul said he was interested in illustrating my story and potentially being the chosen illustrator for it if the publisher liked his images, but he was not interested in setting up a timetable for completing it. At the time, I pondered whether he was attempting to extend the working portion of our relationship in order to have more time to get to know me or maybe he was just an artist who had to be in the mood or “inspired” to produce and had no interest in pursuing me? After all, he had showed no interest in starting a physical relationship with me as time progressed. I sensed he felt close to me, but no offering of a kiss or even a hug ever came.

About seven or eight months after I met him, he called me over to sit in front of a bonfire and have a glass of wine with him. He drank a few beers and was a little more vulnerable than usual. It became obvious from the conversation that he still cared for my friend Jenny and was trying to understand why she ended the relationship. I listened and one thing that I understood was that Jenny had not really ended their relationship with finality or clarity, and so he was left with questions. When I later shared this with Jenny and suggested she have a follow thru conversation with him so he could move forward, I sensed she liked the fact that he was still enthralled with her. She also did not initiate the conversation with him that I was suggesting, which did not bode well for me. Besides these tell-tale signs telling me to move on in regards to pursuing a romantic relationship with him, there was one significant foolish act I lost myself in wherein I thought might move him to see me in a different light.

Just a few years before, when I was in my early 20’s, part of how I paid for college was by modeling in the nude for art classes at a prestigious art school in the area. I always felt respected and appreciated, for all the lovely artwork that was created by the students. The human form was honored and I appreciated the opportunity I was given through working this part time job. One evening Paul and I had dinner together. I felt like we were doing a lot of gazing into each other’s eyes and that this might be the evening that we crossed over from being friends to romantic partners. I nervously told Paul about my past modeling and mentioned that I would model for him if he wanted to paint a nude. Without hesitation, he welcomed the offer. I took a breath. I was feeling a little nervous, but I proceeded to remove my clothes and positioned myself into a quiet, humble, yoga-like pose as he got his paints, paper, and pencils out. What I didn’t see coming was that after he got his artist tools in place, he then turned on the TV to watch a hockey game while he was drawing my figure!!! He did not even pretend to be concentrating on drawing me, but instead looked past me watching his favorite team and the scoreboard. His turning on the TV made me feel embarrassed and humiliated for volunteering to reveal myself in this way to him. I did not even feel the respect that past art students graciously had given me when I would hold a pose for a half hour interval for a class. In modeling for Paul, I could not wait for the half hour to be done and his scrimpy sketch reflected his lack of attention on his subject-which was supposed to be me!! I left right after the modeling session saying a perfunctory "goodbye." I drove home in tears, knowing I had let myself down by offering this motion to try and gain a man’s attention, and hoping, his love ultimately. This cringeworthy moment was brought on through inexperience of not listening to my inner wisdom. I had not paid attention to other obvious clues revealed in his lack of interest in me romantically. I don’t blame Paul for the entirety of my feelings here. As a young woman I had lessons to learn about what holding the string “just right” meant in regards to being in a healthy relationship and knowing when to “let the string go.”

After that evening, weeks went by and we didn’t speak. I was still feeling humiliated. I was disappointed with him and myself. I decided to drive over to his house and confront him one late afternoon. After all, I couldn’t feel worse than I did? Or so I thought?! As I drove up and turned into his driveway, I saw her. A woman I didn’t know was sitting in a lawn chair next to him in his backyard. When I saw them, it was too late to move out of his driveway without notice for my tires had hit the loose stones and had made too much noise. Paul heard my car as he turned and started to walk to the end of the driveway. I stayed in my car and just said, “sorry, I see you have a visitor.” He mentioned that he was having a “tryst” with her. Stunned, I don’t remember what I said after that. I knew I wanted to get out of there and drive away and not come back!! The experience of that moment was like being hit by a second bolt of cringeworthy; adding insult to injury!!

I learned a lot through this encounter or chapter with Paul. During that time, I remember reading the Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemmingway. The main character, a fisherman, took great care to try and get the big fish he caught back to shore while keeping it alive. Despite the old man’s efforts, the fish had died in the process. I realized I had spent a year trying to reel in this relationship with Paul, both as a business partnership and as an intimate, romantic relationship. Although Paul finally finished the illustrations for the book, they were not accepted by the publisher. However, the publisher approved my story and married me up with another illustrator who lived three states away and the book was published by Simon & Schuster in 1991.

Because this experience happened over 30 years ago, through time I have lost the embarrassment but not the wisdom gained from the experience. I still believe that vulnerability takes courage, but that my best of intentions cannot come from a sense of lack. To have learned this is the best ending chapter to this story and perhaps any yet to come.