2023.8.10 04:30 I used to fly a kite every year. The very three months without it would never make a real spring. But sadly the opposite has become true. (spew! So fussy!)Way back, around 2nd grade on a pale day, the thread was snapped by high wind in mid air and was gone for good. The lost kite would submerge now and then, the best kite in the world. I don't wanna play with words this time, so I won't call it magical. It was special though, and I am 100 percent sure I will never come across a kite like that again. With any airy stirs and a few steps backward could it take off, and I would even win kindly murmuring comments when I passed those aside taking in all the vernal picture. In a letter from Dad, in some spring day, which must be some years earlier before, I was struggling with it at first, when he settled on the bench, eyes closed, arm draped. Next moment he watched, I had sent it smoothly in the air. I cannot reminisce any trace of it, because the kite, it seems, has always been so easy to take flight and soar high. And in my mind's eye, the story has an azure sky and glorious sunlight for background. It must be so. While I remember pretty well the day it left was empty and gray. It was a simple story, so common that one single sentence is enough to summarise all: the thread slid to the end and the end slid off. An end for nearly all the lost kites. For a while we have run the bank for it. Of course, we have known the ending part. And the footage would invariably come up with Mom grumbling her lost car key was priced 800 yuan. The next year I got another, outshined though. From fifth grade to day, I have never partaken in any annual kite-flying gala again. Sometimes I think nobody can be more realistic than the wicked and relentless me. Other times I would perceive myself as too sentimental. Now I am the latter. A tale-like word goes like this-will our beloved lost ones miss us back? I am wondering this. Where is it now? Would it want me back?
I am wondering this. Where is it now? Would it want me back? Sometimes? Even once? I have thought of it many, many times. What is it? Only a pity in my carefree childhood? Then why am I so heartbroken at this? Is there anything else leaving with it, or like it? Maybe I just want an intimate spiritual friend in my world, where no human in reality has set foot. (接上)