There is nothing that will bring a quicker spark,
Than saying to your children, "Let's go to the park!"
Messy house and dirty dishes
Are gladly exchanged for a child's wishes.
Thoughts dance with bright colored balloons,
Wild-eyed monkeys, and big, hairy baboons.

No sooner do we start the engine
Than chocolate-smeared lips break out in a wide grin,
Then part to ask a hundred questions,
Without pause, breath, or hesitation.
"Can I ride the little cars ... I want the red one,
"Mommy, can I ride the boats, too, they're such fun?"

"And Daddy, will you take me on the big shiny train?"
But before there is time to explain
That we haven't time enough,
He adds, "Can I have some cotton candy and other stuff?"

We finally arrive: Mommy, Daddy, and little boys two.
Getting out of the car I grab the baby yelling, "Get the camera, Honey, will you?"
In a flash Daddy is off to buy some tickets,
The oldest spots the cars and runs for the red one to get in it.

The baby, now half the size of his older brother
Makes me cry as I put them next to each other.
For as side by side and round and round they go,
I realize how that all too quickly they grow.

While they ride, I look around
At the crowd of people that abound:
A sea full of faces
From all backgrounds and races.

Spotting poverty and wealth,
The young, the aged, the crippled in health,
I sense that the magic in my children's eyes
Is totally blind to the world I surmise.

But perhaps there is something more here for me,
More than what I think I see.
For isn't the park still the place
Where fun is the great equalizer of the human race?

My thoughts are interrupted as I look at the watch on my wrist,
Knowing it is time to leave and how the boys will resist.
It is nearly seven...
If we hurry, thank heaven,
We can still buy a balloon before they close.

"Mommy", my son asks, "Do you suppose
We can come back one day real soon?
And next time, can I have a green balloon?"
On the way home, two tired little boys are fast asleep,
And I quietly muse on the day that I can only keep,
In the memory bank of my heart and mind.

We pull in the driveway only to find
Our balloon escaping through the open car door,
A souvenir that is ours no more.
I am deeply touched,
As my child asks, "Why does Jesus love balloons so much?"
A little sad and yet somewhat elated
For my sons will never see that balloon deflated.

Copyright © by Sharon L. Patterson Share