There was something about the way the September sunlight played against the swings.

There was something about the way the September sunlight played against the swings on the playground today while I was chasing after 14 three-year-olds that immediately took me back.

The swiftness in which I was carried back through the years almost took my breath away. Memories of Peter and Sarah played in my mind like old film footage, grainy and silent.

We were at the park. Sarah was giggling as I pushed her in the swings and Peter was running and jumping and climbing. I was holding my breath and praying his two-year-old legs wouldn't betray him.

I remembered another favorite park. The giant sand box was filled with buckets and bulldozers and shovels. The day was hot and we had packed a lunch of sandwiches and chocolate Pokky.

And then I recalled the many times I loaded both kids into the double stroller for a long walk through the neighborhood. Our old neighborhood was fairly large but most of the moms I knew worked so I spent many days with no one to talk to except my kids.

I spent those long walks babbling about the trees, the grass and the sky - nothing in particular. We would make it all the way to the coffee shop where I would order an iced chai latte and the kids would fuss until I reluctantly shared my treat with them. They would pass the icy drink back and forth while I began the trek back home.

I felt someone tug on my shirttail. I glanced up at the sky and noticed that the angle of the sun had changed ever so slightly and I was pulled back into the present.