Idyllic Chick

Last weekend was one of the greatest weekends of my life. I learned to fly a kite. A *real* kite. One of those two stringed, tricky, stunt kites. And I'm hooked.

It is hard for me to describe the feeling I had as I worked not against, but *with* the wind. A certain joy soared through my blood as I used the great, invisible force for my own folly. After only a few attempts (and lots of help from Chris) I was able to launch the kite and hold it aloft for several minutes. Not just hold it there, mind you, but drive the concoction of plastic sticks and parachute fabric from one side of the sky to the other. I, a mere mortal, was able to cause this primitively designed yet modernly developed device to do flips in the air. I would send it in circles to the left, twisting the two lines together, then send it into a tight, fast spiral to the right to untwist the cords. I took it up and down, slowly and quickly. And, yes, I crashed it plenty, but for every time that kite hit the ground, there were moments of sheer ecstasy when I was the only being in the world, and that being was a true goddess.