~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They raised their swings.
Laurel's pendulum moved at a different frequency,
perhaps more in rhythm with her heart.
And she began to pump and move on her own.
It caught me by surprise,
her calls for me to come watch her swing on her own.
I was standing at the kitchen window.
I could hear the pride in her voice.
Excitement.
She's been the only one who couldn't do it for a year.
Selfishly, my thoughts turned to myself.
How many times have I brushed off her calls to
"come swing me Momma"?
It stings and burns my heart,
to have missed those opportunities.
To have intentionally and unintentionally missed those memories.
Please don't misunderstand:
I have spent plenty of time out there swinging them all.
Lots of wonderful moments, with me laughing and dodging between them.
But I want them to have memories of me gently pushing them,
of them laughing while we play that game we play,
of me laughing while we play that game we play.
Not memories of me walking away
because I don't have time,
or because I am too overwhelmed by life.
My children are precious.
My time with them is precious.
I deserve to be happier.
I deserve to have a lighter heart.
~carrie~
