My kids outgrew our games — where did my play go?

I built my sons a kite every spring. Bright tails, string strong enough to pull a donkey. When the wind came I ran across the field like a fool, and they laughed because I was one. Then one year they stopped coming to the field. I kept building kites anyway. I flew them alone, early, before anyone could see, like it was something to be ashamed of. Here is what I had not noticed: I always called it 'their kite,' never mine. So when they left, I assumed the kite left with them. But my legs still wanted to run. My hands still wanted string. The play was never borrowed from me — I had only filed it under someone else's name. You built your play around small people who are not small anymore. That is not a failure — it worked, they grew up. But nobody hands you a new kite when the old one retires. You have to say, out loud, to people you trust, that you miss running across a field for no reason at all.