Tuck and I like to swing together at the park. When the swings synchronized, back and forth, back and forth, he said, "Look, Mommy. Our swings are married."
When we lost our matching rhythm and began to simply pass each other in the back and forth, he said, "Sometimes swings don't like to stay married."
An interesting word picture, my boy.
"Tuck, did you know I was married once?"
"Yes. To Daddy."
"I liked being married to him." Even when our swings weren't perfectly aligned.
"Because he was a lot of fun."
"Yeah, but he died, Mommy."
"I miss him, Tuck."
And just like that, our swings began to match again. I said, "Oh, Tucker! Look!"
He gasped and looked over his shoulder to see what had caught my eye. "What, Mommy?"
"Look at our swings - they're matching again."
"Oh, they're married. I thought you saw Daddy. I thought Daddy was here."
"Sorry, buddy. He's not here."
"I miss him, Mommy. He died so fast."
"Yes, he did."