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80DzG f6fV5 4m0 5d63x2. The sad little boy took off my sticks and string and tail. I was a kite. As I flew in the breeze, I imagined I was home, on my hill, still standing tall and proud. 0a821d3 5162 77g95 248 7V3V0 Ycjn191? She read me over and over. One day she had a picnic on a hill. My hill I saw my own stump. I would have given anything to be a tree again. But then another thought crept into my mind.