As we were driving to the store earlier in the week, Sean points out the window and shrieks, “Oh Mommy! Look at that beautiful garden!”
Garden? How is it I’ve driven down this street a million times and never noticed a beautiful garden?
I craned my neck to see where he was pointing. It was a cemetery.
“Can we go there some day?” he asked innocently.
I know a couple who have a child buried in that cemetery. Their faces filled the movie screen of my mind. For a split second I imagined myself in their shoes, standing in that beautiful garden, facing the unthinkable, the unbearable.
“Sure sweetie, we can go there sometime,” I said, my voice cracking and sounding unnaturally cheerful. “Sure we can.”
And then the conversation veered around the corner on two-wheels as only it can with a three-year-old in the car.
“Mommy, why do pirate ships have diving boards?”
I’m still thinking about my friends.
“Mommy! Why do pirate ships have diving boards?”
I’m jarred away from one grave to another.
“Because they like to go swimming.”
For that moment, that was the best answer I could come up with. And technically not a lie.