Swinging

Slice of Life '25 1 Minute

“How would you feel if others told you you couldn’t play with them?” one of the moms at the benches warns her 5-year-old son. Sweaty shirt, red cheeks—Catching up with his breathing after several rounds of tag. He stares at her with disappointed but humbled eyes.

I sit by the slide, protecting your leaves and sticks-growing collection. You walk a few steps, reach down to grab a new find, and walk over to me to hand it over. I could spend hours watching you in this simplistic yet mesmerizing discovering era.

After a bit, a few children laughing by the swings yank your attention away from your treasures. Your face turns to me quickly. Eyes wide open, finger pointing, an intention to leave the treasures behind.

I stand up and hold your hand. The dual swing is now free for us. Our favorite.

“Mama, sit here,” you command. Now you always command us to do things: sit, sleep, come here, mama!”

I place you in the toddler seat before me and plant my feet on the ground. The weight reminds me of time passing.

You set us up, “Uno, dos, y…. tessh (tres)”

I push myself back and hold us there for a bit. I feel the strain on my muscles as I keep us both there, and then I let go. Swishh!

Something takes over me and I lean all the way back, letting me head fall freely. When I come back to you I see your face. You seem surprised and a bit curious, so you imitate me. Eyes closed, arms stretched out, head falling back. Whee!

I’m no longer at the swings. I’m in my office writing these words to freeze that moment from a week ago. I’m no longer thinking of your cute chin as you leaned back, or the sight of your crooked teeth (a story for later) as you smile. I’m thinking how much I struggle with endings. I’m looking at the time and how I’ve spent 8 minutes trying to figure out how to bring this to a close.

So I just do. I end it. Maybe tomorrow’s slice will have a better closing.

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Published by Ana Valentina Patton

I aim to be a learner, not a knower. If I forget, please remind me.

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12 thoughts on “Swinging”

  3. Um… I only took a few weeks off from blogging, I swear, and now Elena is talking and walking and the last time I looked she was just a baby. Wow. I love this moment, the way that she imitates your spontaneous joy. No wonder you didn’t want to end this piece; don’t we all want to stay in that moment on the swing?

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  5. It’s a joy to “watch” your interactions with Elena and to experience your wonder at her and how she experiences the world. What a gift for your reader now and a treasure for her later! I love what Amy said about just saying “Whee!” and having a bit of fun with it. I’m so glad you’re writing again this year!

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  6. Lovely, and that line, “The weight reminds me of time passing,” carries os much with it. I haven’t thought about it quite that way, but now I will each time I pick up my always-growing grandson.

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  10. Ahhh, “the weight reminds me of time passing”, I feel and connect with that descriptor so much! And your little one imitating you, there’s nothing better! Imitation is the greatest form of flattery. To me, ‘writing these words to freeze the moment’ IS a powerful ending.

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  12. There is so much magic in this time capsule for Elena. I’m excited to see how this year’s slices show all the little miracles of her one whole year older!

    And maybe endings need to be a bit more like letting go, like you did with your head back and arms out: “wheeee!” Having fun with it, as my dad always says.

    I love you so much!

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