Swan Boats
On (my first) Mother’s Day.
The other morning, I was biking to work around the Public Garden and caught a glimpse of the Swan Boats lolling in the pond. They were at the dock, still empty, but it was already warm out, and you could just about see them packed with tourists, gliding slowly back and forth.
As soon as I passed them, an excited thought bubbled into my head—We should take O. on one!—and I laughed to myself. I’ve lived in Boston for nearly twenty years now (Editor: Yikes!) and never, not even once, desired to get on a Swan Boat before.
I had worried about what parenthood would be like. That it would naturally entail some loss of self, and that I’d end up someone’s mom (derogatory) instead of me.
And in some ways, I was right—my life is undeniably different. But in more, bigger ways, I was wrong. I’m someone’s mom (complimentary). It’s my life, and he’s in it, and everything is better for it. We’ll go on the Swan Boats together. We’ll have fun. His joy is mine, too.