Hang on to your dreams.

It has been a busy month but today I had to admit I had done all I could to 'Phoenix House', put it, comb bound, in a padded envelope and posted it off to seek its fortune. It seems a good moment to tell you why 'Hang on to your dreams' has been so important to me - at times it is all that has kept me going.

It was a cold grey November evening almost forty years ago. A strong wind was blowing across Kensington Gardens, dusk was falling and banks of clouds had built up over Bayswater Road. It was definitely time to go home to tea and crumpets. A tall elderly man was pushing a wheel chair across the grass, the young passenger was getting a rough ride.
‘D’you really want to fly it now? Can’t it wait for another day?’
The youth shook his head vigorously. ‘There may not be another day like this,’ he replied and held up the kite. ‘The wind has to be just right.’
His face was very pale, the skin stretched tightly across his cheek bones. The rug across his knees did nothing to hide his skeletal form.
‘Toss it for me Dad, I’m not much good at throwing these days.’
His father took the kite, swung his arm back and threw it upwards. The wind caught it and immediately it began to climb. The lad clutched the string and paid it out hand over hand as the kite, swinging and pulling, soared high above the heads of families heading for home. The wind was gaining strength; the kite was tugging to get free.
‘Let me help – you’re likely to lose it.’
‘No – it’s mine – I’ve always wanted to fly. This is the nearest I’ll get to it.’
I watched the young face, in imagination so clearly with the kite in its tethered freedom, a freedom he would never know in this life.
The kite, now above the Bayswater Road, gave one last tug and the string broke. Earth-bound the young owner watched the kite soaring higher and higher into the clouds until it disappeared. He looked up at his father and smiled.
‘Sometimes you have to let go to hang on to your dreams.’