It has been too long since I shared a flash fiction. Sorry, but the fiction part will have to wait until next week. Today, I have a bit of non fiction to share with you.
Inspired by my son’s sweet pleas for me to push him faster in his swing. It is a reflection, and inspiration for me to do better, to think more positively. And yes, I absolutely cried while writing these 3oo words.
Thanks for reading!
We share a special bond. We are alike in many ways, and I hope to teach you what you have taught me.
The umbilical cord wrapped around your neck when you were born. You didn’t cry, you were unnaturally silent, and I worried.
As an infant, you insisted on multiple nighttime cuddles. You wanted to be rocked and sung to. You wanted comfort, and I was glad to give it to you, safe in my arms I needed not worry.
As you grew, your adventure grew too. My mischievous little man, you would create messes and blame them on your sister. You would climb chairs and couches and jump from their height. Your curiosity was a deep well, and I worried.
Sickness befell you, time and again. The ear infections came every few weeks, and fevers and pain along with them. You were miserable and my arms no longer held the comfort you needed. After the first failed set of tubes in your ears and bursts of untreatable ear infections, I worried.
Now you are older, and your personality so strongly reflects my own. I wonder about the choices you will make, the paths you will choose, the person you will be and I worry.
But, worrying will do you no good. Life is relentless, it will not slow down for you, it will not come easy.
So, when we are playing outside and I push you on your swing, I will not slow down when you yell, “to the trees, mommy.” I will push you further. Because, when you grin up at me, your eyes sparkling with excitement, the unknown slips away. I know one day you will go beyond the trees, higher and higher, and I will hold you up if you fall. I do not worry.