Playground Feelings

Sitting at a bench overlooking the beautiful scene surrounding me, I can't help but let the lone tear roll down my cheek. The young children exploring all the different parts of the playground, joy evident in their smiles and eyes. I see young families playing with their children. Pushing them on the swing, helping them climb up to the top of the slide.

I never got to experience the joy that came from knowing someone would help me up when I fell over. Nor did I feel the hand of a loved one on my back, puching the swing higher. My parents were work-a-holics. My aunt always said 'that's what killed them'. When I was about seven I went to the park for my first time. Alone though. My parents let me go out on my own at a very young age. I used to sit here on the same bench I'm sitting on now, 20 years later.

Now I watch as my husband pushes our two-year-old daughter, Isabel, on the swing. She giggles as he pushes her higher and higher. 'I'm flying!' I hear her say in delight.

My husband chuckles lightly at her joy then looks over at me. I know I have far more tears running down my face now and I know he can see them. I don't try to hide them, I know he would be able to tell anyway.

'Izzy? Sweetie, why don't you go play with Danny for a while? I'm sure she'd love to play with you' he says to our youngest, so softly I barely hear. She nods and, after he helps her off the swing, runs over to her sister. I watch the two playing together until I hear a soft voice.

'I'll always be there to help you up. I'll always be there to share your joy. And I'll always love you' my husband whispers in my ear.

'And I'll always love you too, Chris, always'.