Today, we decided to clean up our backyard. Maggie’s wooden swing and play set that we bought when she was 4 has swung its last swing. It had to be dismantled. We cleaned off the back porch, pressure washed the back window and patio, and cleaned out her once used sandbox. I tried to “get out of my head,” so to speak, as I watched all of her little girl toys form a mountainous pile in the grass. But, what I didn’t realize was that it wasn’t my mind I should have been protecting, but my heart. I quietly   disappeared, during the breakdown, into the bathroom and cried. I cried for the tiny girl who used to fit in my lap while I rocked. I cried for the brevity of time and how mean it felt today. I cried because when Samuel is the age Maggie is now, she will be leaving for college. I cried as the memories flooded my soul of her swinging high into the sky, trying to touch the clouds, singing so loudly that the neighbors could hear her precious, original songs. I cried because today I could really feel the gap in my children’s ages, and I knew that they would not enjoy the same things at the same time during their childhoods.