This past weekend my husband looked out the back door, into the backyard, as he has done a million times and asked aloud, “When are we going to get rid of the swing set?”
The rusty swing set really serves no purpose. The boys have grown too old to bother with it and it’s in the way when Carlos cuts the grass. It’s simply taking up space, but what do you do with a swing set you don’t want? You can’t just toss it in the trash… and besides, it hurts my heart a little to admit that the swing set years are officially over.
Carlos didn’t wait for me to make excuses. “I’m taking it down,” he said, and then turning to the boys, “Who wants to help?” … I expected the boys to beg him not to take it down but they ran to get the toolbox. I guess it was time.
While we dismantled the swing set, Suegra happened to call on the phone from El Salvador.
“What are you doing there?” she asked.
“We’re taking apart the swing set.”
For once I thought Suegra was in agreement with me – that we were doing away with a special memory, but she continued on, “Why are you taking it down?! Where will I hang my laundry when I come back?!”