To the casual observer, our backyard wasn't much to look at. In all honesty, it wasn't even a backyard - just a dirt lot behind our apartment building. A few scraggly bushes and a strange, irregular patch of sod left us with much to be desired. There was, however, a beautiful maple tree growing outside. It was so overgrown that its drooping branches nearly touched the ground, but our landlord kindly refrained from trimming the tree because the branches formed a little "tree hut" of sorts. Beneath those branches, there was a tiny table, some painted rocks, and plenty of dirt to dig in.

It was paradise for my little two-year-old. She asked nearly every day to go play outside. She would sit and fiddle with sticks or bury the rocks and dig them up again, all the while smudging her baby-soft cheeks with dirt. She loved examining each rock, beautifully painted by a kindly neighbor. She would fill up her little shovel and pat the dirt carefully with her dimpled fingers, then dump it out and start the process all over again. She didn’t mind the occasional fly or spider and loved to watch the ants crawl around her feet.

Saying Yes to Being Present

As the mom to this busy toddler, I was used to constantly chasing after her. I would have to remind her to not run in the street and to watch for cars. It often felt like I was saying “no” more than I was saying “yes” as I tried to keep her safe. Playing beneath the maple tree, though, was always a “yes.” The nearby rose bush was the most imminent danger, and she had no interest in touching the “spiky plant.” With no lifeguarding to do, my only job then was to sit and watch. I would "ooh" or "ahh" at a particularly beautiful rock or help her empty out her dirty shoes, but that was the extent of my parenting responsibilities.

While the hours between getting my daughter up from her afternoon nap and when Daddy came home from work felt like they were impossibly long - beneath the tree, time didn’t matter. When we were outside, we could spend ten minutes or forty, and we would both be content. In an effort to be more present with her, I would do my best to take a few pictures and then put my phone away completely. Those pictures are still some of the ones that I treasure most.

Beyond the Maple Tree

We have since moved away from that tiny apartment, although the maple tree is still there. That little two year old is now in kindergarten and I love seeing the person she is becoming. There are moments when I struggle to shift from easily meeting her physical needs to supporting her emotionally as she learns appropriate expression. On hard days, I sometimes start to feel wistful for when life felt simpler. To address those feelings, I try to remember the ways we connect now. We are both happiest when we are outside exploring or dancing to music or driving in the car and chatting. I find so much joy in learning about the friends she is making at school and hearing her sing the songs she learned in music class that day.

These moments of connection take me back to our days under the maple tree. I get to watch her learn and grow now, just as I did then. The circumstances may be different, but the principles of connection, being present for my child, and soaking in the small interactions are still vital for me as a parent. It is a privilege to raise this beautiful human.