The Play Date

What does one do after one’s mom dies?

I don’t know... Do you?

I went to the park the other day. And by park I mean playground. I remembered it as having the biggest and longest slide these blue eyes had ever seen, and so I went to go see if it was still true. As I parked my car I debated whether or not to bring my wallet and cell phone. Nope. Keys and shoes only; and I instantly resented the keys. I made my way across the mountains of grass, and had to pick my way through a muddy patch. My toes haven’t felt grass in a long time. I’m sure the two mothers who had met for a play date with their kids on the adjacent playground were a little curious… “What’s up with the leggy blonde?” I found the slide hidden behind a cleft of trees, and to my delight it was still tall. Still the longest slide I’ve ever seen. I stood alone in the sand just staring at it—still the same. Maybe a little shorter now that I’m a little taller, but still the same. Relief washed over me. Peace welled in my heart. Memory had served.

I kicked off my shoes and started the climb to the top.

The wood scratched my feet, and sand swept between my toes with each step. I was out of breath when I got to the top, and I remembered how we would race up the steps with loads of sand in our shirts. Sand makes you go faster. I stood on the platform and started to lower myself onto the top of the slide, preparing to sit for a minute. But before my best-laid plans had a chance to lay, I was off! I was glad I hadn’t brought sand because it was FAST! My bare feet in front of me, I careened down the metal embankment and a high-pitched squeal eeked its way out, growing louder as the bottom approached. Boom! The ground came quick. Deep breath—I was alive! Ha! What to conquer next? Swings.

Pumping is easier when your legs are now as long as you once were. But it’s still scary to tilt your head back all the way. And it’s still hard to want to stop.

So much is the same. And yet, the whole world has changed.

I thought… All my life I’ve tried to be older than I am. Or I’ve always felt older than I am. I’m not sure which. Maybe both? The last time I was at this park, on these swings, I had everything I needed. Mommy and Dad were here. I’m sure James was around somewhere. Maybe our friends were with us. Mom was undoubtedly setting up food or consoling a crying James or trying to squash one of my displays of attitude and dramatics. Dad would have been talking to said friends, and trying to teach James how to fly a kite, and helping Mom set up food. We would have been together. We might have been tired or frustrated or hungry or annoyed, but we loved it. And we loved each other.

Is that what really being an adult is? Realizing that everything you needed, you had when you were a child? And then spending the rest of your life trying desperately to get it all back? I don’t know. But it sure felt like it.

Mommy’s little girl is growing up.

All I Need

Mommy is with Jesus.