The little boy assembled scraps he could find around and after many weeks made a kite. It would never be mistaken as anything beautiful. It was a mix match of this and that strewn together for one purpose, to fly. The tail of the kite was most special. It was a collection of torn fabric, remnants of discarded clothing, rags his mother's customers thought had no use and especially no further value. This tail showed pallets of denim, cotton, polyester, wool and all other forgotten material deemed worthless and forgotten in their eyes.
One day the young boy could be spotted up on the hill trying with all his might to get this mix match kite into the sky. It would go up just a few feet off the ground and come crashing down just as fast. Day after day the same thing, up a bit and down with a thump. The boy would make bits of repair when needed then with steadfast determination try to put that kite in the sky.
One day, one of his mom's customers, a pilot was dropping off laundry and noticed the young boy trying to fly the kite. He watched a long while and then walked over to him. Without speaking, he gently took the kite from the child. He slowly examined the kite and noticed an imbalance in the weight of the tail, too much fabric in some places and not enough in others. The customer removed his own tie and carefully assembled it to the back of the kite.
The next week, the pilot saw the same young boy, running on the hill holding onto something. His arm high in the air. He briskly walks over to the young boy and says "Wonderful, now how high do you want to take this kite?" The young man with his eyes pointed toward the sky, no kite in sight, simply replies, "Now that my insides feel what it is like to fly, I have not decided yet!"