Daily story, April 18, 2025

There have been four or five opportunities for me to let go of the kite since I first caught hold of it and it lifted me into the air. A tree or two; a pile of straw; a huge inflatable at a summer fair. At all of them, I hesitated, and then the chance was gone. Now I am out over the sea, and flying steadily lower. Soon my heels will skim the waves, and not long after I will fall, and then I will drown. But without my weight, the kite will fly high again, and it will be beautiful.