It’s a warm summer evening. I’ve just finished cleaning up the dinner dishes and my preschool-aged daughter, Megan, is running laps barefoot around the kitchen island. She is begging for a Popsicle and asking to go play outside. I hang up my dish towel, rub my seven-months-pregnant belly, and tap the button to open our overhead
garage door. Megan plays on her swing hanging from the tree in our front yard, then hops on a tricycle and pedals up and down the sidewalk while I watch her from our porch glider.
My husband joins me. We lift our faces to the breeze, grateful that the hottest part of the day is over. Suddenly, Megan springs from her tricycle and bounds squealing down the sidewalk. Emily has arrived.
Emily is one of Megan’s best friends, and we might never have gotten to know her and her family if we hadn’t hung a baby swing from the tree in our front yard when Megan was little. Emily and her family live a few blocks away and take frequent walks in the neighborhood, and back when both girls were toddlers, our house held a special appeal for Emily. We occasionally saw her parents pushing her in the stroller while we were outside. They would wave and tell us with a smile, “Our daughter really envies your swing.”
The brief “hellos” evolved into short conversations as Emily and her family passed our house. One day, we noticed Emily’s mom was sporting an unmistakable baby bump. We chatted about the soon-to-arrive baby while Megan approached Emily’s stroller. The girls sized each other up. Megan pointed admiringly at Emily’s princess sandals. Emily grunted at our swing.
Last summer, we came to expect the evening rendezvous on our front lawn. We usually headed outside to play after dinner and would watch to see if Emily and her family happened to walk by. Often, they did. Our chats turned to hour-long conversations. I was pregnant with my second daughter, Abigail, by that point, and Emily’s mom and I would talk about the impending birth. Emily’s dad would talk with my husband about sports and work.
While we stood in the grass, the girls hauled every yard toy out of our small garage. They raced tricycles and scooters down the sidewalk and colored our driveway with chalk drawings. Baby Scott had made his debut already, and he spent the evenings crawling in the grass and getting pushes in the swing from the girls. As summer faded to fall, we lingered in the yard until the sun sank low, and Emily and her family would walk back home in the fading light.
Our friendship is one of those blessings you don’t see coming. How many times do you really make friends with the people who walk past your house? The girls love each other, and Emily’s mom is one of those women who is easy to get along with and is a nice companion on the journey of motherhood. We head over to each other’s houses for play dates and meet up at library story time, and we sometimes rely on each other for babysitting. Megan stayed at Emily’s house when newborn Abigail had jaundice and my husband and I were at the hospital making arrangements to come home with a bili bed.
Emily’s mom is expecting her third baby this summer, and once again our conversations turn to all things baby-related. She wants to be surprised about the gender. Emily, however, proclaimed that God knows the gender and says she spoke with Him and the baby is a girl. It is a good thing, watching each of our families grow over the years, and I’m glad to know this particular family.
And all because of a simple baby swing hanging from the tree in our front yard.
Let’s connect on social media too:
Mumbling Mommy on Facebook
Mumbling Mommy on Twitter
Mumbling Mommy on Pinterest
Category: Family Free TimeTags: daughters
