Since I was a child, a favorite pastime of mine has been kite flying. One year in my Easter basket, alongside a chocolate bunny, I received a Hi-Flier kite. On the first windy day soon after, I begged my dad to take me to the park to fly it. At one of the picnic tables, we put together the paper diamond-shaped kite and attached a long red tail to the bottom.
In the open field, holding the kite high above my head, I ran as fast as I could while Dad let out some string from the long white spool. Several seconds later, a gust of wind scooped the kite from my hands. I watched it rise and swirl to the right and then to the left. I ran back to Dad, who handed me the spool. “You take over.”
The kite climbed higher over the lake. I let out a little more string—it rose above the trees! The string whirred faster and faster off the spool. Mesmerized, I watched the bobbing diamond shape get smaller until it blurred into the bright blue sky. Only visible was the dancing red tail. I clung onto it while all my thoughts took flight, escaping to a place where anything was possible. I fixed my gaze on the now dark dot pasted in the vast sky. I imagined looking down from the kite, where everything, including the things that troubled me, seemed small and insignificant. The whirring stopped. The spool was empty.
Dad told me to reel it back in. I panicked. “You take it Dad.” I passed the spool to him, but it slipped from my hands and flew across the field. The untethered kite sailed across the park. I chased after it, but by the time I snatched the empty spool, the kite was hovering over the treetops. I wound the string over and over around the spool until my fingers burned. Out of the sky, the point of the diamond dove into the trees. I sprinted around the lake with Dad huffing behind me. But when we arrived, it was too late; my kite had been captured in the arms of a gigantic oak. A gaping hole tore through its belly, exposing a broken arm.
As much as I felt defeated that day, I became hooked on kite flying. I especially enjoy flying at the beach, where I get to bring joy to others as they marvel at my kite winking at them from afar.
In a way, flying a kite is much like writing a novel. While many people say they want to do it, few actually do. For those of us committed to writing a novel, you know, once your idea becomes airborne, it will zig and zag in different directions. There will be many highs and lows. Getting your novel out into the world for others to see requires a lot of practice. But take heart, fellow writers. If you are patient and stay the course, your writing will soar to new heights. Whatever you do, just hold on and don’t let go.
Shellie
Where the rhythm of the road meets the rhythm of the page
Check out these links to create your own kite memories with your family!
- Long Beach Island, NJ: 12 Annual LBI Fly Kite Fest Invitational -October 9-10th. 2026 link : LBI FLY – LBI Invitational Kite Festival
- Kite Festivals in NJ: Kite Festivals in NJ – NJ Family
Shellie Pickett Author 
Leave a comment