Martha And Her Kite

Kite waited patiently all the long, dark winter for the sun to return. Crumpled up in a tangled heap on a top shelf in the crowded, musty garage, she counted down the days till spring. While mice tiptoed across her tail, she dreamed of soaring through the sky. When sleds and shovels were taken out for snowy fun, she longed to feel the wind on her belly and warmth on her back.

Just when she thought she might spend eternity covered in cobwebs, forgotten on that shelf, a hand reached up and pulled her down. The hand belong to Martha, the young girl who had received Kite as a birthday present 2 years earlier.

Martha sneezed as she brushed the dust off Kite. She ran out of the garage with both hands gripping Kite tightly.

“Mom! I’ve got my kite! I’m ready to go to the park,” Martha called.

She skipped out of the garage.

“Alright, let’s do it!” Mom said.

Mom loaded Florence, Martha’s little sister, into the stroller, and clipped a leash to their dog, Buster’s, harness.

Martha hopped down the sidewalk behind Mom, holding on tightly to Kite with one hand. Kite trembled with excitement as the wind brushed across her tail.

The sun was shining, and the sky was a brilliant blue, but much to Kite’s surprise, there were still large patches of snow covering parts of the ground. Buster stopped every couple of feet to sniff, and then pee on the snow. Kite could hear the call of the red winged blackbirds in the marsh that bordered the park. She knew it had to be spring, despite the remnants of winter that had been left behind.

“I can’t wait until the weather warms up. I’m tired of the snow,” Mom muttered, as she maneuvered the stroller across an icy puddle near the entrance to the park.

“Boot skating!” Martha cheered, as she shuffled across the same ice patch with glee.

“Be careful, Martha!” Mom scolded.

At that exact moment, Martha slipped and fell to her knees. 

“I’m okay!” Martha assured her mother. 

A shock hit Kite as the force of the fall flung her from Martha’s hands. She skidded across the cool, wet, ice.

“My kite!” Martha gasped.

She popped up and penguin waddled over to the edge of the frozen puddle, where Kite had come to a stop. Martha picked up her kite, and ran toward the soggy soccer field.

“Remember to stay far away from the trees,” Mom warned her.

“I will,” Martha promised.

Florence fussed to be let out of the stroller when she saw Martha speeding away. Mom loosened the stroller buckles and lifted Florence out. Little sister chased after big sister, and Buster followed behind both, barking his excitement.

The trees were just starting to burst with buds. Kite could tell by the way their branches were swaying that this was going to be a great day to fly. Martha ran to the middle of the soccer field, then stopped. She let out a small amount of Kite’s string, then paused to look at how much she had.

“Is this enough?” Martha asked Mom.

“Try it. You can let out more string once the kite is in the air,” Mom said.

Kite could hardly contain her excitement. In just seconds, she would be high in the sky! Martha took off running into the wind, and Kite braced for liftoff. The wind caught Kite, and she flounced for a moment before crashing nose first to the ground.

“Aww, almost,” Martha grumbled.

“Next time, try letting out more string as soon as the kite is in the air,” Mom suggested.

Martha untangled Kite’s string and took off running into the breeze once again. When the wind caught Kite and lifted her into the air, Martha let out more string. Kite soared higher into the sky, lifting up on each gust of air.

Martha giggled and continued to run across the soccer field. Her boots squelched in the slushy grass with each step. Kite dipped and danced above her, tails trembling and body rustling with pure joy.

Buster pulled Mom all over the soccer field. There were so many smells to be sniffed, and he didn’t want to miss a single one. Florence stomped through the saturated field, squealing and clapping each time Martha passed by her with Kite.

Kite was certain that this had to be the best day of her existence. Martha had become quite skilled at keeping her up in the air since last spring.

“Here you go, Florence. Do you want to fly my kite?” Martha asked.

She offered Florence the winder. Florence took it, and promptly let go. A big gust of wind swept by, and carried Kite away.

“Oh no!” Martha cried.

She ran after Kite, arms outstretched, but it was no use. The winder was spinning fast, and the string unraveled, sending Kite higher and higher.

“Run, Martha! Run!” Mom shouted.

Buster howled his encouragement.

Martha ran as fast is she could, but she tripped on a patch of snow and fell in the slush. She whimpered as she watched Kite fly further and further away. 

Kite was scared, at first. With no one holding on to her string, she was at the mercy of the wind. What would happen to her? The higher she drifted, the more she began to relax. She was moving fast, but she was having fun. With no one controlling her, she was free to twirl, flip, dance, and dive in whatever way she wanted to.

“I feel ALIVE!” Kite whistled with the wind.

When the gust that had carried her away ran out of steam, Kite felt herself dropping. She floated down, until a pine branch reached out and grabbed her. There was nothing else to do but stay cradled in the tree until someone came to help. Kite could hear Martha shouting from across the park.

“My kite! Mom, it’s in a tree!” Martha yelled.

Kite sprawled out on the branch, her tails and string dangling in the breeze. The scent of pine sap was all around her.

A few minutes later, Martha climbed up the sticky tree to fetch her. Mom, Florence, and Buster caught up while Martha was still in the tree, inspecting all the parts of Kite.

“It’s not broken!” she exclaimed.

“Good. Now come back down here before you fall and get broken,” Mom teased.

Martha tossed Kite to the ground for Mom to catch, before climbing down herself. Buster, doing what he does best, barked incessantly until Martha’s feet were planted firmly on the ground. Mom handed Kite back to Martha, and they trudged through the puddles back home. Tucked in the crook of Martha’s arm, Kite drooped with exhaustion, but her heart, and tails, fluttered with happiness.