Kites and Anchors

B. and I got a belated wedding present from a dear friend the other day.



Two kites.

Just flimsy little plastic doodads, nothing fancy.

And I love them.  They're one of the best gifts we've gotten as a couple.



Let me explain.

I never grew up around a lot of money.  I had some friends who got things like cars for their birthdays or Xboxes for Christmas, and I was not so much envious as I was incredulous.  It seemed like too much too soon too easy.  The cars often ended up totaled.  The Xboxes were played until the next model came out or they grew tired of beating the same game over and over again.

The gifts I treasure most are the ones with stories attached.



These kites have a story.  I developed a theory a few years back that both B. and this friend of ours (and now YOU!) are privy to:

In every relationship there is a kite and an anchor.

Kites flutter around, bringing vivacity and passion into life, their souls soar through the air in a dazzle of color, inspiring all eyes watching below.  They dance with every breeze, skim across clouds and make the empty space round them a little livelier and more exciting.  They can't be tamed, their nature is just to surrender to whim, chance and fancy.  Theirs is a new thrill every moment.

Anchors are more grounded (obviously).  They are content to be ratchet-turners and find comfort in their routine.  Schedules are a sanctuary.  Predictability is no prison to an anchor, they bask in it, calculating their place, their sphere of influence, meting and measuring the moments each day, patiently waiting for the next phase they've penciled into their lives.


It's no stretch of the imagination guessing who's who at the Bugg's.  I don't journal much, but my planner - a scheduling tool I started once in college - is decked with all sorts of daily notes and mementos.  I often keep her grounded, and she pulls me up into the sun.

One of the things that attracted me to B. was her passion, her inexhaustible love for life.  She would regale me with her adventures rock climbing in Zions National Park, hiking through canyons, and camping in the desert.  That was what I wanted; someone who was going to live life fully, with or without me, so I better hop on before the train took off.  That energy was contagious and helped me reach beyond my shell and timidly dip my toe in uncharted waters and start enjoying our voyage together. 

That's not to say that this is a strict dichotomy; we switch places sometimes.

Sometimes I'm the kite.  Sometimes.  She has to play the anchor and make sure I do things like make appointments and other grown-up chores.  When she's depressed or cranky, I'm upbeat and happy.  When I'm focused on homework and stressed about projects, she starts tickling me.


We are what the other needs. 



We adapt for each other.  We put each other first.  That's what she is to me.  My greatest gift.




What kind of gifts do you like best?

What are you most of the time? Anchor or kite?




S