Kicking the clouds

My fingers were frozen as I pushed you on the swing for the hundredth time that day. My chants of “legs out, legs in” fell on deaf ears as you were completely content letting me handle all the work of keeping you airborne never failing to remind me to push harder if I had let you become too slow or swing too low.

At the peak of each swing, I had noticed you were stretching your legs out so far that I thought you might fall off. “What are you doing up there?” I called. “Trying to touch the clouds,” you said. “Just a little higher, mom, I’m almost there.”

We stayed at the park that day long after when we normally would have gone in because of the cold. Because one day you won’t need me or perhaps even sooner you won’t want my help. But for today, you did. And for as long as you’ll let me, I’ll be the one who helps you kick the clouds.

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