The Hobo And The Kite (cont.)

Sitting there munching on balogna and soda crackers,he glanced around at the empty fields and pastures, surrounding him in an endless panorama of natural beauty and rustic vistas.
He thought of his life on a farm as a child,and
about how happy he had been on the day his father
had shown him how to build a kite and fly it.They
had gone to an open field much like the ones before him now.A thought entered his mind,quickly
he rummaged again through his pack,this time searching for an old news paper he had picked up
to use when nature called,hobo's cant be choosey
in these matters.
finding the paper,he found a ball of twine and even a tube of glue.Hobo's are a resourceful lot
when it comes to having the finer things of life on the road,he thought.The old oak kindly provided a few
sticks,and he quickly fashioned a sort of lop sided kite out of the news paper and string and glue.Crossing the sticks and tieing them,just as his father had taught him so many years ago.He smiled briefly at the thought of his father teaching him how to fold the paper and fasten it with flour and water glue,how patient his father had seemed back then.
fastening the make shift kite to the end of the ball of twine,he inspected it minutely for flaws.finding none,he held the kite just the way
his father had taut him and trotted slowly into the slight breeze that had sprung up.The kite refused to fly!He sat down perplexed on the ground and thought a second,what had he forgotten?dimly he recalled the kite of his childhood floating serenely in the afternoon sky on that distant day,dipping gracefuly as a swallow with...A TAIL! he had forgotten the tail.He remembered his father telling him now,all kites need a tail to balance them,what his father had said,the word he used was drag,but this wasn't important to the old hobo,what was important was that he had a tie he had gotten from an old empty house he had slept in on his long journey to no where.He quickly retrieved the tie from his pack and tied it to the end of the kite.Again he trotted into the breeze,the kite dipped and bowed and seemed as if it would hit the ground,but it flew!By didleydamn it flew!Slowly the kite gained altitude and floated,tugging pleasently on the string held by the old hobo.A look of childish joy suffused the tired old face of the hobo,years seemed to drop away,as the troubles and cares of a life time on the road disapeared and the simple joy of flying a kite took controle.He seemed again to be in that far way field with his father,laughing and shouting and running with the shear joy of just being alive.
Suddenly,the string broke and the kite floated gently to the ground,spiriling down a mile away behind a line of trees.Dumfounded at the sudden demise of his kite,the old hobo looked longingly for a second at the place where it had disappeared,then turned tiredly toward the old oak tree,retrieving his heavy pack,he resumed his journey onward with his shuffling gait, toward a distant and unknown destination. (the end)

Story ID:	1476
Written by:	Bobby O'neill Mitchum (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Fiction
Location:	Phenix City Alabama U.S.A.
Year:	2007
Person:	SELF