• p.n.c

The rest of our lives


I’m sitting here at the playground in Tequesta Trace Park, where the children are running around and swinging from the tire swings. They’re incredibly innocent. An innocence that is sensible and prudent. Their main focus is who’s going to make it down the monkey bars first. As I’m pushing Ziva on the swings, she laughs and twirls, carefree. She asks me to push her gently, while she awaits with excitement. Expecting me to catch her if she falls. I’m laughing too. Mostly, because her joy is infectious. I look around me at the parents lost for a brief minute in a world where their child's laugh, as he goes up and down on the seesaw is significantly greater than anything else. I stopped to cherish this for a second, as the sun went down over Tequesta Trace. I see myself, years from now at a similar, old playground. This time around, there’s a little boy whose features are similar to mine. He has a twinkle in his eye, as I push him on the swings. I tell him to close his eyes and dream of himself flying. In this moment nothing else matters. He’s not afraid to let go because he knows that I rather fall, get hurt, then not catch him. He’s completely secure with me, and so he jumps and I grab him and hug him tightly in my arms.

I often think about my future. If I’m honest, way often then I’d like to. Naturally, I’d love to have my own perfect, little family someday. I keep thinking that there is a special person out there that my Heavenly Father has set aside for me, and we are going to spend the rest of our lives together someday. There will be many playground and sunset moments. Too many to count. It doesn’t matter where in the world he is right now, or maybe if he’s reading this. God is showing me the patience I never thought I knew, waiting for you. I can’t lie to you, trusting God in the unknown is scary. As far away as my future may seem, I’m holding on to hope, to my Savior. I just ask him to hold me, and to continue reminding me of the love that surpasses all. Sometimes loneliness creeps in and It can be oh, so consuming. However, tonight I’m holding on to that moment on the swing set with Ziva.

“Some moments are nice, some are

nicer, some are even worth

writing

about.” 

― Charles Bukowski, War All the Time

p.n.c



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