The darkest winter of our lives is officially behind us. For the past couple of days we’ve had beautiful, Garden of Eden weather and yesterday, Ton Ton and I took Luki to the playground for the first time.

As I was pushing my son on his maiden voyage in the swing set, I remembered…

“Push me harder daddy,” I’d shriek. “I want to fly.”

Every day he’d come home from work and take us to the park. First in Havana, to the run-down playground with the chainlink fence and the metal swings that would scorch our thighs. Then in Miami, to a playground that to us — freshly arrived Cuban children — seemed like an amusement park. The playground with the giant swirly plastic slide I was afraid of until he talked me into it. “I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,” he promised. And I closed my eyes and hurled myself down, into his arms. I wasn’t afraid anymore after that.

One day, I didn’t need for him to wait at the bottom of the slide. I learned to push, to swing, to fly…all by myself. And he’d smile and cheer and watch me from the sidelines.

Yesterday at the park, I felt him watching me. Watching us. And in the screeching swing set, and the comforting breeze, and my cooing baby, I heard him. I heard him promise — spring will be a brighter season.