It is winter, but nobody told the weather. Sunny, glorious 60-some degrees, with no jackets required. No gloves, no hats, not even umbrellas. The groundhog predicted six more weeks of winter. If this is winter, then bring it on!At the playground, scampering children abound. Squeals reach my ears as girls and boys fly high on the swings. "Big kids" yell to each other in loud voices with instructions and directions for some unknown and completely original game. Amelia plays alone, happily running, sliding, climbing. She asks for a powerful push as she swings, up and down, her toes seemingly touching the sky.
Sometimes she finds a friend. Sometimes, it is her voice I hear belting out orders, her shoes crunching on the wood chips as she runs past. In these moments, I realize just how much she has grown. She is independent, free. Not afraid to let go of Mommy; willing to trade in Mommy for a new friend or two. In those moments, I find my free time.
But instead, I cannot keep my eyes off of her.
Sunny days. Playground days. Childhood. Independence. Joy.
A winter like this? I will not complain if lasts forever.
