My friend and I took my kids to a swimming class tonight. We splashed and laughed and spent precious time together. I loved seeing my children enjoy the activity planned specifically for their entertainment. They were eager to participate and rejuvenated when it was time to go home.
I felt claustrophobic entering the swimming area filled with many moms and dads gathered to attend the toddler swimming class with their babies. I wanted what they had. I heard one mom talk about family time. I wanted to know what that is like again with a mom and dad. I saw another little boy grab onto his dad with fear of the big pool. I wanted my kids to grasp onto their dad, too. Back in the locker room, we dried off and changed out of our wet suits. Jordan asked me, “Mommy, can I go pee?” “Yes!” I exclaimed with a thrill that he was initiating the idea as we ran to the toilet stall. He seemed so big tonight. I wanted his dad to be part of his “so big” night.
I received an email today that said it takes 1000 days to grieve the loss of a loved one. This is a statistic from Susan Saint James, an actress who lost her 14 year old son in a plane crash. 1000 days. Almost three years. This sounds like the track I’m on. I think tonight, swimming at the pool night, is day number 218.
