THE KITE
A man stood high on a hill. He watched as a brilliant sun lit the horizon with a suffusion of orange and reds. Surely all was right with the world and everything sat correctly in its place. He had attained mercy and to say that life had not been kind would have made him ungracious.Indeed, life had been abundantly kind to him. He seldom went hungry and had done many good things and accomplished worthy deeds. He had not lived a perfect life but agreed he had done more good than harm. He paused for awhile then said a prayer of gratitude releasing it with a dissatisfied grunt.Scanning along the ridge, his eyes reached deep into the field, fixing them on the edge of a salty pond where he once played happily as a small boy in its brackish water. From above, he noticed a long road with a few old friends interacting with some of his busy neighbours. It was a familiar sight and one that he had always known and would have joyously joined in had he been there. But instead his breath turned stale. He lowered his eyes in disgust, clenching his fist hard while rejecting the image with all his might. Was this all that life had become, the daily repetition of routine? A deep gloom gradually replaced anger as his eyes turned upward toward the open sky. Then as if being guided over the tops of the trees, he caught sight of a small kite darting and sailing far into a wider space.The kite was the old fashion type, pentagon ally shaped with cotton strips torn then knotted for its tail. Immediately he remembered the ones he had made as a child from old scraps; thin thatch reeds, paper from a brown bag , pasted neatly together with flower and water.'How perfect this is' he mused to himself.He watched tentatively as the kite glided with a tremendous force, spinning and soaring into a high wind up into the clouds. He became exalted thinking himself the little boy, unfettered and free within the thrust of its flight.Overwhelmed by the spectacle, the excitement warmed his body in the cool, evening air. A calm filled his thoughts as he returned into the night.'Yes', as he pondered for a while, he had done well. Surely all was right with the world? Still, he felt a discomfort with the thought. He uttered another small prayer filled with great appreciation as he had done before but the image of the boy stayed fixed and lingered in his mind. How he yearned, he thought , to be that young boy once again flying his kite, unfettered and free within the thrust of its flight.The idea excited him tremendously as he made his way back home through a high bush along a dusty, unpaved road.