The Kite

Quietly reflecting and listening to the surf, I heard a child’s  banshie scream of delight. There was movement off to my  left. 

He was about eleven, and had just arrived at the beach.  Running across the sand joyously yelling at the ocean  which was also very glad to see him. Trailing behind him  on about a two foot leader, was the most magnificent kite  of all time. Fragile in its beauty, yet completely powerful as  it danced behind him. He zigged, he zagged, he ran like  the wind, and always the kite was right there with him  dancing and happy to be running with the boy. 

Eventually mom and dad made their way to the surf. Up  and down the beach ran the boy, happy in his moment,  and in his life. Finally dad corralled the boy and pulled  from his pocket the kite string. Dad connected the leash to  the leader. All the while the boy watched intently. Then, in  one magic moment, the boy let go. He didn’t hesitate, he  didn’t question, he just let go. 

Off it went. The kite had finally been given its freedom.  Soaring, powerful, beautiful. Up. Up. Up. The boy, now  transfixed at the sight of his magic kite sailing effortless on  the ocean breeze. The boy looked at his dad and then at  his flying wonder. I saw dad smile. Mom put her hand in  dads. A perfect moment. I could not hear their words, but I  think dad said, “Run!” Off like a shot went the boy. The kite matched him move for move. It would be difficult to guess  who was happiest. I think maybe the kite. 

Only a few minutes went by in the boy’s kite bliss before  the ocean, jealous in its might, called to the boy, as it does  to most of us. Soon the beautiful, magnificent kite was not  nearly as important as the stick he found. All the while the  kite sailed above, happy in its flight. The stick led to sand  crabs. Sand crabs led to chasing and being chased by the  surf. The ocean had won, as it always does, still the kite  danced with the boy’s every move. 

 It wasn’t long before dad was holding the kite string. The  sand crabs and surf were winning the battle and this would  not do because the boy had a stick. 

For a long time, mom and dad stood motionless peering  up at the kite. I wonder what they thought? Mom noticed  me taking pictures of the kite, it truly was a beautiful kite.  

She smiled at me when I gave her a thumbs-up. She  returned the gesture and then she and I both went back to  watching the kite. I tell you this was a most excellent kite.  

Eventually the sand crabs and surf overcame the assault  of the stick armed boy, and it was getting dark. Dad reeled  in the wondrous flying kite, which came along happily. Dad  and his son released the leader from the string, and off ran  the boy, as he had upon his arrival, with kite happily  dancing right behind.

As this family reached the edge of my sight, mom paused  and looked at me. I waved, she waved. What a great kite.