While Ben was at swim lessons the other day, I brought the other kids to play at the adjacent playground. The twins were so happy to roll down the slide and Vivian was content to chase after them. A fine spring day indeed!
Evie and her friend Anna Maria hung out on their own, caught in a world of pre-teen gossip and laughs. At one point, they moved over to the new swings, each taking one for herself.
Evie looked back at me sitting on a bench. “Mom, will you push me?” she asked nonchalantly.
Startled, I looked up at her. She was laying on the large swing, looking at me with a smile. Smiling back at her, I had a feeling, right in that place between my stomach and my heart. A sense of urgency swept over me.
I feel like that will be the last time she asks me to push her on a swing.
She’s 10 now. Almost 11. Really, how many more opportunities will I get to push my first born on a swing? How many hundreds – no, thousands – of pushes have I given her over the past 3,951 days since her birth?
I rose from my seat and pushed her on the swing. She just needed a few pushes to get herself going before she said (without looking back at me), “I’m ok now, Mom. You can stop.”
Now, two days later as I sit at my computer in the wee morning hours before anyone else is awake, I miss my baby Evie. I want to scoot back in time – just for a little while – to push her just a few more times in the baby bucket swing.
Just one more push.
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So glad you caught this fleeting moment!