(Written by Hu Ao)

          For many years after I was born, I lived in the home of my grandparents on my mother's side of the family.  I was the only child and everyone gave me a lot of love.  I've been told now that I'm older that I was a bit spoiled; I was capricious and did and said what I wanted without consideration of the feelings of others.

          That didn't change until my grandmother died.  I suddenly realized how valuable everyone in the family was to me.  I became especially fond of my grandfather and recall fondly the special moments we had together.  I cherish those memories to this day.

          My grandfather had a lot of hobbies.  He loved cooking, reading, swimming, and flying kites, and included me in all of them.  I learned to cook noodles from him.  I started to love reading.  We often swam, and flying kites was always a special time.  He started to teach me how to fly a kite when I was a very small boy.  It was an activity for the autumn, as the weather is veryi important.  We always had to choose a windy day.

          He taught me of the importance of having a good kite.  Grandfather made all of his kites himself and was an expert.  I was amazed that he had so many and wondered how he did it.

          He told me all about it when I was about six or seven years old.  He began by taking me to a store to buy all the materials.  We bought wood for the frame, cloth and silk, and every piece was chosen carefully.  He concentrated so hard that it almost seemed that he was doing a spiritual kind of thing.  I'd be very quiet while he made the selections, would look at him seriously - just like an assistant.

          After collecting everything he needed, we'd go home and hie'd start to make the kite.  I'd stand alongside him, and even though I knew nothing about kites, I'd ask him if I could help, and he'd always say, "Of course" with a smile.

          When the kite was finally fiinished, we'd choose a good day and go to the playground.  He'd always say that he needed help to fly the kite and gave it to me while he held the line.  When the wind came up, he'd shout, "Run with the wind", and his voice would fade out as I began to rush across the field.

          The cool wind flew against my back, and I could feel the kite in my hands start to move.  It was just like a bird - a bird that was asleep, but had started to wake up.

          "He wants to fly", I heard myself yelling.

          "Let him fly", grandfather shouted with his arms reaching toward the sky.

          The line was tight and strong.  The magic moment came when I let go, and in just a few seconds the kite soared overhead.  I had to lift my head to see it up there in the air.  It was becoming smaller and smaller.

          "Fly it as high as it will go...."

          Wonderful moments like that happened ten years ago, and the world continues to spin quickly around us.  The other day, I was wandering through the playiground where my grandfather and I went so often, and I saw a white-haired man and a little boy starting to fly a kite.  They were obviously very happy, and I stopped and stared at them before lifting my head toward the bright blue sky to find the kite and the line that had held my grandfather and me together so tightly.