I was walking on the famous Daytona Beach and spotted this boy with a kite. He was having a blast – lifting it up in the air, running as fast as he could, and smiling at his kite as it flew ever higher. He would run – run – run and the kite would fly high and then of course it would crash down at some point due to the gradual slow-down of the runner and a breeze pushing on the kite the wrong way.
He was not discouraged and his technique was a thing to enjoy. He would look at the kite, then look in front of him to make sure no one was in the way, and then run and jerk that kite to lift it in the air. No finesse, no rolling up the string to start again, and no thought of lifting it gently with his hand to help it get started. Pure adrenaline and belief that if he just ran hard enough and jerked on that string, the kite would reward him and fly high.
And it worked. Time after time that kite lifted in the wind and provided pure pleasure to this young boy. And to me.
His brother did not have the same luck so I didn’t take his picture. Hey, that’s life.