Leftovers Day 24 -- Go Fly a Kite

I remember the first time I saw a Gayla "Bat" kite in our local Ben Franklin.  I thought it was the coolest looking kite I'd ever seen, the home-built box kite our neighbor had notwithstanding. I was used to the standard homemade diamond kites my dad would make for me. I never could get one of those up in the air, no matter how long the tail.  I bought the kite and brought it home.  We had a large field behind our house and I ran there before my mom had the car in park.  After unwrapping, applying the eye stickers and attaching the string, I let it fly.  The wind was favorable and it went straight up. It was easiest kite flying I'd ever experienced.  I let more and more string out while watching gleefully as it climbed to new heights. Suddenly, it took a quick dive to the left and landed in the highest branches of a very tall oak tree.  I wound the string in quickly as I ran to the tree. Looking up and immediately recognizing I couldn't climb the tree, I thought, "Maybe I can pull it out with the string". I gave a few tugs and the string broke.  My new kite was hopelessly trapped, its wing pierced on branch. There was nothing I could do. I walked back to our house with a broken spirit. All summer long when I walked the field, I saw it flapping its wings helplessly in the wind, its black plastic disintegrating more with each visit.

While this isn't the exact kite I had, I was elated to find it at a garage sale for 50 cents, still in its original packaging.

It dates from 1983, a little later than when I bought my kite.

 This could be a picture of me moments before the tragedy.

I have yet to fly it. I'm almost afraid to.  I just know there's a tree out there waiting.