Leo, at ten years old, lived for the annual town Kite Festival. For weeks, he and his mother, Clara, had worked on his entry. It wasn’t a store-bought kite, but a magnificent eagle, built from scratch with balsa wood, newspaper, and a glue pot that seemed permanently attached to their kitchen table. Clara didn’t just hand him the supplies; she sat with him, patiently holding spars while the glue dried and showing him how to balance the wings. Their evenings were filled with shared purpose and quiet conversation. "It’s going to fly higher than anyone’s, Mom," Leo would say, his.......