The week had gone by in a flash. Sohrab and I had gone out a few days before to buy our kite and string. It was a blue kite, just like the one that I had cut down so many years ago, winning my first kite running contest.

      The day of the competition was wonderful. The shining sun blazed down on the park with nothing but blue skies. Not a cloud dotted the horizon and the temperature was comfortable. Birds chirped here and there, flitting from tree to tree. There was enough wind to rustle the trees and grass. Enough wind to get the kites in the air and keep them in the air, but not so much that it would make the kites hard to control. It was an ideal day for kite running. Many had gathered in the park, preparing for the competition. There were lots of different colors and designs of kites, all proclaiming to be the best and the winner.

      But I knew of only one true winner.

      I glanced back at Sohrab after sizing up our contestants and surveying our best options. He was sitting on the ground, testing his string just the way I had taught him to. The string turned red with his blood as it sliced his finger. He looked up at me and smiled.

      He was ready, born ready.

      We tied the string to our kite, and fed the line out. I asked him, “Do you want me to fly the kite, or run the kites?”

      He didn’t answer me. Instead he looked around to the other kites, some already soaring high in the sky. I glimpsed a look around then back at him. He is smiling a wide grin, savoring the moment.

       He looks back over to me, “I’m ready to send this kite up in the air to soar high and mighty.”

       I nod, take hold of the kite and throw it upwards. Sohrab jerks the string, once, twice, and then the kite is flying high above us. The competition has begun as each and every other kite climbs into the air and begins their attack strategies. I go back and stand beside Sohrab. He is completely focused on his kite and the green one dipping down toward him. He grits his teeth, tugs his string, and a little blood runs down his finger as the string cuts through him, but he doesn’t even notice. His only focus is on that of the kite sinking down toward him. He waits patiently for the kite to strike, knowing what is coming. He’s ready for my most famous trick.

      The green kite strikes, Sohrab jerks his string and in two quick effortless movements, the green kite is sailing downwards to the ground. He had done it perfectly. He smiled triumphantly and turned to me. “Can you run that green kite for me?”

      “For you, Sohrab, a thousand times over.”

      For the second time in my life, those words come out of me and I know that I truly mean them now. I truly know how loyal Hassan had been to me and I, thankfully, have turned into him, becoming a man I should have been so many years ago to a friend who would do anything for me. And from now on, I mean every word I say, just as Hassan had to me.

      I spun round, seeing the grin spread over Sohrab’s face with his tongue slightly sticking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrates on a new opponent with a black kite. Suddenly all my doubts I’ve ever made of myself, all the wrong I did, is now washing away from me through Hassan’s son, as I become the true half brother to Hassan.

      I twisted back round to the pack of kids chasing kites, and I ran.