When Everything Is Hurting, Go Fly A Kite

We've had to sell our house in Newport. Ken has owned the house almost 28 years. It seems longer because in my mind there was Newport before Ken met me, and the was Newport after Ken met me. I don't like to imagine our house (and we always just called it Newport; no fancy names like some of the mansions and homes that line the streets of town. Just Newport.) and the parties, etc. that took place before me. It's a girl thing. But I grew to love that house and the wonderful times we had in it, as if it had always been just ours.

We started talking about the inevitable selling of Newport last fall when my week long hospital stay, extended into months, and our resources had long been tapped with my astronomical insurance costs, college tuitions we were never able to set apart because of my health. Last year, our out of pocket expenses after insurance were over $31,000; a college tuition itself. But my angel friends set up an account and by the Grace of God, we were able to remain afloat. We had not one extra penny to spend, but we were afloat.

But then in March, totally without warning, the person that Ken has worked side by side with for over 12 years, let Ken go. Sales had been down, it's a cyclical business, but I firmly believe it was because of the huge expense of our insurance. We own our policy, but the company was paying half. Ken was told 'I can't fire myself, so I have to let you go". Just like that. The unthinkable had happened. We knew we had been walking a tightrope for several years, just praying that Ken would remain healthy and that one Big Deal, would get us on top again, as it always had. But I continued to get sick. The cancer has remained stable, but my body was now suffering the fallout of drinking drano all of those years. The fascia in my belly keeps deteriorating, and my immune system is completely shot, so I get a massive infection if someone looks at me wrong.

Ken will be 65 this year. Wrong age to be jumping into the employment pool. He has opportunities to work in the same business as an independent contractor, which he will probably do, but the payments come whether you are able to pay them or not. We filed for unemployment, I filed for food assistance. It's a frightening and humiliating feeling, but I thank God for the bit that we receive. And I thank Thank God for Newport. Our sanctuary, our investment; the investment we never had any intention of liquidating.

So Ken and a friend, Glen, went up early Saturday with a truck to start bringing home things that we did not sell with the house. One was a scooter that has worked perfectly for 27 years. We now have three scooters in the garage. No cars can fit in there, just scooters.

Before they got to the house, they decided to go down Lower Thames for breakfast at a  great old diner. After bellies were full, Glen suggested they take a ride out to Brenton Point to see if there were any early kite fliers. One of my family's most favorite things to do after a day at the beach, was to shower, pack up a basket of munchies and drinks, grab the pups, blankets and chairs, and go fly kites at Brenton Point. I have pictures of the kids in strollers, we have done this for so long. We would stay til the sun went down then home for dinner.

There were a few kite flyers there and as Ken was looking out over the water, Glen reached behind the seat of his truck, and pulled out...a kite.

Glen is known for his spontaneity and making sure everyone has a good time, but to Ken, Glen is probably the best friend he's ever had, and Saturday was a perfect example of why. He didn't just arrive with his truck, ready for a day of schlepping etc. He knew this was going to be terribly difficult for Ken and he anticipated that. He knew the feelings that Ken has been tormented by. Unemployed, age, fear, worry over my surgery this week. Glen knew that and did what he had to do. He brought a kite.

There is no other person I would rather have been with Ken, than Glen.

And now we wait, the agonizingly long wait for the closing. Ken has a hard time separating the memory from the item. I know he will never forget this past Saturday and our whole family has enjoyed being a witness to a pure act of kindness.