New adventures in kite flying

When they say that you shouldn't fly a kite where there are trees, it is true. But of course you knew that. I did too. But I was itching to fly my kite after almost a year of not touching it. It used to fly at the Berkeley Marina, on lazy Sunday afternoons when I would lie on the grassy slope staring at the tail dancing in the wind. It tugs away from me, savoring its limited freedom. Then I grow tired of holding, and I pass the kite to someone else to hold when I just stare.

The wind doesn't blow as strongly here, not along the Charles. There are trees, not all tall, but treacherous all the same. There might have been enough space in between the trees if I knew how to fly my kite right, if the wind would stay its course. I did pretty well for about 10 minuutes really, then the wind really died and my kite plunged into the embrace of the twiggy branches of a short tree.

Do I tug? Or do I let the string loose and hope that the wind will catch it again?

I stood and held on, looking at the girls under the tree, jumping futilely with a long fallen branch, trying to loose the kite string from the tangles of the branches. It was cute, almost comical. How old were they? My age, yet we suddenly felt like kids.

Kite flying has its share of drama around here, but it's all good because there is someone else to help me out. And then we all laugh and life goes on.

When things are so happy, I wonder if this is all for real. Between the troughs and the peaks, life on the average is pretty good.