They crouched together, one soft tiny hand entrusted fully into the safety of its father’s broad and steadfast hold. The little one, wearing orange shorts, a pale blue t-shirt and white trainers, his straight blonde hair fluttering in unison with the kite strings, was a picture of innocence and excitement.
It was time. Hand in hand they arose, and ‘father’ flicked his wrist and let go of the kite, as both reached one arm upwards, the stronger of the two reaching into the sky with the kite, while the tiny, tender arm reached up safely into that steadfast grip. They ran. Slowly at first, and then gathering momentum, one large stride to the pace of three hurried steps.
Up it went, the ribbons and bows fluttering wildly behind it. How long it would last, they did not know, and so they ran, and ran, and ran, as the kite soared and swooshed, and caught the wind, as its tail tapered excitedly into a cloudless sky filled with dreams!
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