Red Kite

She sat at her desk, deadlines running through her head, when a loud screech woke her from her haze. As she turned her head to look out the window, a bur of rusty red, brown and white swooped by her window. She stood up to watch a beautiful red kite slowly come to a stop on a tree branch and look towards her.

The bird locked eyes with her, matching her gaze, making her heart stop for a second. The piercing yellow of its stare filled her with a sense of awe. She felt a connection between them, something deep and spiritual. And, just as quick as it came, the bird took off, flapping its long wings and gliding away.

She fell back in her chair. She ran downstairs, grabbing her binoculars and bringing them back up to her room, setting them on the windowsill. Hoping she would see the kite again, hoping she would feel that connection once more.

It was a few days until she saw it again. This time, the kite landed on the back fence of the garden. She slowly brought the binoculars up to her eyes, scanning over the kite, taking in each breath-taking detail – the colour of the feathers, the sharpness of the claws, the elegant curve of the beak. The she settled once more on the eyes. She took her binoculars down and stared softly at the kite, once again feeling a deep calmness and bewilderment swell up inside her.

She tilted her head, letting out a long breath. The kite copied her. She tilted her head the other way. The kite did the same. She sat up straighter, lifting her head. Once again, the kite copied her movements. They sat staring at each other and mimicking movements for a while, until another call echoed out. The kite replied and took off, stretching out its strong, massive wings.

She watched the kite for as long as she could, seeing him flap his wings to gain height before soaring in circles overhead. Eventually it soared away.

After that, the kite came back every day, edging closer to her with each visit, until one day it landed on the windowsill. She sat in awe at its magnificent beauty and the powerful presence it had. She very slowly leaned in. No movement. She placed her and on the window. The kite looked at the hand and bumped its head against it. “Hi,” she whispered, a smile taking over her face.

Never had she felt so connected with nature, felt so small yet so important at the same time. The kite had chosen her. No one else. Just her. An average woman from an average town with an average life.

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Then, suddenly, the kite took off. She watched him as he shot up and then circled her garden. She began to cry. Somehow, she knew, that was goodbye.

She never saw the kite again. But she never forgot her sense of importance, never forgot that feeling of finding a place in the world. And she never forgot that kite.