My Favorite Patch of Dirt
Creating Lifelong Memories Underneath Our Family Tree.
Image taken by Kelly Boitano Photography
My wife and I bought our home ten years ago. I remember our walkthrough. We walked into the house, and the scent of Maple Glade Plug-Ins fiercely hit my nostrils. I swear the scent must have been pumping through the vents because it was potent and aggressive, even for a maple syrup enthusiast like myself.
Throughout our tour, we’d look into the rooms and notice a copious amount of space. At the time, we were living in a 280-square-foot studio apartment in San Francisco, so the Master bedroom alone felt like something out of a Victorian mansion.
I looked at my wife, smiling as we dreamed about filling this home with dogs, kids, and enough memories to require a Google Photos upgrade. Everything we’d ever need was in these four walls, and they were weeks away from being ours.
Then, as we went outside, taking in the view of the home from the street, I couldn’t help but fall in love with the tree in the front yard. This tree provided shade for days, necessary for the sun that rose directly in front of the house. Plus, the tree gave off that grown-up vibe that any newlywed was looking for.
As I thought about this home and the memories we could make in it, I kept staring at the tree, curious about its history — curious about its roots. Was it planted by the developer, or had a bird dropped a seed decades earlier that became this gorgeous sight to see?
The tree was lush with leaves, truly making a statement for this home we’d soon be drafting an offer for. I thought about the picnics we could have under it, laying out blankets and homemade sandwiches while drinking fresh squeezed lemonade from the Meyer lemon tree in the backyard. I pictured our family simply lying in its shade on a warm summer day, waiting for a cool breeze to gently grace our skin as we listened for the beautiful sound of the ice cream truck.
As I studied its branches, my wife turned to me and wondered, “Do you think a tree swing would look nice here?” Yes. Yes, I do.
Image taken by author.
For our fifth wedding anniversary, I bought our tree swing. We had talked about the idea since we bought our home, and with the traditional fifth wedding anniversary gift being wood, a wooden tree swing seemed obvious.
As I climbed the ladder to hang it, I worked to find the perfect spot for stability and maximum swinging potential. After shifting the rope from side to side, adjusting its height to allow our bare toes to touch the soft blades of grass, I finally stepped back into the street to see my work.
Perfect.
I sat on the swing, making sure this baby was stable and secure. After a few swings back and forth, it was time for my two-year-old daughter to give it a spin.
She loved it! I’d spend hours at the park with my girl, pushing her on the swing until either my arms went numb or the sun went down. Now, we could simply walk out our front door and fly through the air with all the glee and joy you could imagine.
We’d come home from daycare and immediately hit the swing. We’d come home from the grocery store and immediately hit the swing. We’d come home from the park and immediately hit the swing. Our tree swing was an instant memory maker.
Image taken by the author.
When COVID-19 stopped the world in March 2020, life became dark, confusing, and lonely. Our city shut down our local playgrounds, eliminating many of our family's go-to spots at a time when we desperately needed to get out of the house. While our neighborhood slides were no longer available, thankfully, we still had our swing.
We’d sit in the front yard all day long, eating snacks under our tree and building our own playground with a Fisher Price slide, a soccer net, and chairs for relaxing (parents need a break sometimes). Of course, the crown jewel of our design was our beloved tree swing, the root of our calm in a season of uncertainty.
As cars drove by, our girls enthusiastically waved, screaming “Hello!” at each driver, often having their waves returned. Our interactions may have been limited and socially distanced, but nothing could hold our girls back from bringing smiles to people's faces.
We wore that grass out. My wife and I would hop on that swing and go back and forth, slowly creating a tiny patch of dirt where our feet would touch the ground.
I’d push my daughter as high as I could, likely terrifying the neighbors who watched as my four-year-old flew through the sky, untamed curly hair flowing with a laugh that could be heard down the street and felt deep in my soul.
Our tree swing became a favorite of my nieces, who’d dedicate a portion of each visit to time under our tree. My girls would take turns sharing their most prized possessions with the people they loved most, saying, “Watch how high my dad can push me!” as the kids gazed in awe of human flight.
Our neighbors spent so much time on our tree swing that they built their own across the street. Our kids would run from house to house at all times of the day, excitedly taking turns as if their playground had expanded overnight.
I’ve even come home to kids I didn’t know on the swing. “I’m so sorry! He saw the swing and just wanted to try it.” By all means, enjoy!
This little tree swing of ours has generated hundreds of smiles, a couple of minor injuries, and a lifetime of memories that I’m sure will outlive me.
Image taken by the author.
The other day, I stood in the same spot I stood ten years ago—the spot where I saw future dreams, a growing family, and endless possibilities of what my life may become. Our tree looked fuller and further established as its growth over the years reflected our families.
I looked at our home, specifically our yard, and I couldn’t help but notice the big patch of dirt directly underneath our tree swing.
Some could look at that patch of dirt and think, “They just need some fertilizer and to lay off the grass for a season and their yard would look perfect.” They may be right. A sizable patch of dirt in the middle of our yard may be an eyesore to some and an opportunity for others.
To me, that patch of dirt, complete with the tiniest pebbles, twigs, and the occasional fallen leaf, is what makes our house a home. That’s what makes one person's imperfections my idea of perfection.
For six years, our girls have played on that swing, cried over that swing, eaten and dropped snacks from that swing, and sat and waited patiently for the ice cream man on that swing.
When I come home after being gone for some time, I can pull into our driveway exhausted or irritated by any of life’s frustrations, but when I see our tree swing gently moving with the breeze, I am overcome with a sense of home before my feet even touch the ground.
I can look at that tree and marvel at its faithfulness to our family, grateful for its roots, existence, and the person or animal responsible for planting it.
I can look at that swing and visualize some of my favorite memories as if my journal had been inscribed on its surface.
I can look at that little patch of dirt and know that it’s the simple things in life that routinely bring the most joy.
I can stand on that little patch of dirt, knowing that our history is rooted in the soil underneath our feet, whether future generations remember our particular story or not.
Stories are in our DNA; they are as necessary to our souls as trees are to the earth. Early on in my fatherhood journey, I remember wanting to make a big splash with my girls. I thought big vacations were what they needed—shiny toys would help them create the best memories. However, as the days turn into years, I’ve learned that life’s greatest stories have always been and will always be about authentic simplicity.
One day, the grass may return, and signs of excessive foot traffic may cease to exist, but when I look back at the early stages of fatherhood — the days I’ve been told to cherish forever, I will always remember the memories created on our tree swing, and be grateful for my favorite patch of dirt.
