Go fly a kite

I’ve found that there are things that I liked doing as a kid that, for whatever reason, I totally forgot about ever enjoying and then rediscovered them accidentally decades later. Flying kites is one of those things.

Some years back, my family and I were at one of our many nearby parks that border Lake Ontario, so it’s often ranging between breezy and windy there. We had a brought a few things to play with, including a kite that we had bought on spec to try out with the kiddo, who at the time probably would’ve been maybe five or six.

She kind of liked flying it, but I quickly realized that I really liked it, and was immediately reminded that I always had.

That feeling was revisited when we went road tripping to Canada’s east coast a couple of weeks ago. There we were on a Cavendish, PEI beach, with dunes and kilometers of its signature red sand, and a great on-shore breeze that I just had to take advantage of. So while my wife (Jackie) and daughter were kicking around in the water, which I couldn’t join them for due to an ongoing back issue I was dealing with for the trip, I took one of our new kites (which Jackie suggested buying, by the way, so don’t go pointing fingers at me), and headed down to a spot where I wouldn’t risk crashing it onto anyone.

I can’t express exactly what it is about it that I like the most about kite flying–it’s not the challenge of getting it aloft (which can actually be kind of frustrating), or even keeping it in the air–but something, or a collection of things, about it gives me more joy than an objective study of its individual aspects would suggest I should.

Which is, of course, just fine. I’m not sure I really want to know why it makes me so happy. After all, if you learn how the trick is done, you don’t enjoy the magic any more.