Grace Bell '27
I ran. I felt the wind through my hair, the raindrops on my skin, the concrete under my shoes. I heard the children playing by the playground, the birds chirping. And then, footsteps. Footsteps that did not belong to my feet. I glance behind me, and I see Sohrab. Sohrab is running after the kite with me. I felt a wave of happiness rush over me. Relief. Was Sohrab truly back again? Sohrab and I ran side by side, chasing after the kite. Eventually, My body gave out, and I dropped down on the curb. I was never as good as a kite runner as Hassan was. In between each one of my heavy breaths, I see Sohrab continue to run off into the distance after the kite. I think to myself, what if I never let Hassan run after the kite like I did winter of 1975?
A short while later, Sohrab returns. With a blue kite in his hands. Sohrab, panting with a crooked smile on his face, hands me the kite. I think about Baba. I know I'm not a perfect father, but if only I had a dad who loved me as much as I love Sohrab, maybe I would've ended up differently. Maybe Hassan would still be alive. A Lot of “maybes.” My mind comes back to reality. The kite in my hands, soaked from the rain. And Sohrab looked up at me with the happiest eyes I've ever seen. They say that eyes are windows to the soul. And they were right. Hassan was the best kite runner I've ever seen. I think Hassan would be proud of Sohrab's kite-running skills. Sohrab and I walk back to the tent. Drenched in sweat and rain. I can't tell the difference between the two. We reach the tent, and Soraya runs out with a big smile on her face. She says we were great out there. Before we head back inside, Sohrab grabs both of our hands and says to us, “Thank you.”
