Just 5 More Minutes

April 2010

I went to the park one day with my son. A woman sat beside me on the park bench near a playground.

“That's my son over there,” she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.

“He's a lovely boy,” I said. “And that's my son on the swing, in the white and yellow stripped tee-shirt.

I looked at my watch and called out to my son, “Hey, what do you say, are we ready to go now”.

My son scrunched up his little nose and pleaded, “Just five more minutes, mommy please, just five more minutes.”

I shrugged my shoulders and told my son it was ok and that he could swing to his heart's content.  It was a beautiful day, I thought to myself.

Five minutes passed and I called out again. “Time to go now”.

Again my son pleaded, “Another five more minutes, mommy. I promise, just five minutes.”

I smiled at him and nodded my head. Most of the kids began leaving the park with their mums and dads.

“My, you certainly are patient,” the woman next to me was observing my son’s response quite closely and she felt she had to comment.

I smiled at her and then said, “My older son was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with him and now I'd give anything for just five more minutes with him. I've vowed not to make the same mistake with my younger son”.

The woman looked at me with deep sympathy and I continued to enjoy watching my son.

I sighed and thought to myself, “He thinks he has five more minutes to swing. The truth is, I get five more minutes to watch him play".