Behind us, people cheered, Whistles and applause broke out. I was panting. The last time I had felt a rush like this was that day in the winter of 1975, just after I had cut the last kite, when I spotted Baba on our rooftop, clapping, beaming. I looked down at Sohrab. One corner of his mouth had curled up just so. A smile. Lopsided. Hardly there. But there. Behind us, kids were scampering, and a melee of screaming kite runners was chasing the loose kite drifting high above the trees. I blinked and the smile was gone. But it had been there. I had seen it. Do you want me to run that kite for you? His Adams apple rose and fell as he swallowed. The wind lifted his hair. I thought I saw him nod. For you, a thousand times over, I heard myself say. Then I turned and ran. It was only a smile, nothing more. It didnt make everything all right. It didnt make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. A leaf in the woods, shaking in the wake of a startled birds flight. But Ill take it. With open arms. Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting. I ran. A grown man running with a swarm of screaming children. But I didnt care. I ran with the wind blowing in my face, and a smile as wide as the Valley of Panjsher on my lips. I ran. Kite Runner-Khalid Hosseini
Posted on: Sun, 04 May 2014 08:00:01 +0000