Gentle Words

The swing set stood quiet in the backyard, its bright red seats hanging still like sleeping birds. Usually, this was Carter’s favorite spot, the place where he’d pump his legs until he felt like he could touch the sky, his laughter echoing through the trees. But today, the swing set seemed to sigh, just like Carter did. He sat on the cool grass, his knees pulled up to his chest, watching a ladybug crawl slowly across a dandelion. It didn’t feel like a sunny day at all, not inside him.

Mom found him there, a soft smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She sat down beside him, her hand resting gently on his back. Dad joined them a moment later, settling on his other side, his presence a warm, steady weight. The air around them felt different, hushed and careful, like when you’re in a library or tiptoeing past a sleeping puppy.

“Hey, buddy,” Dad said, his voice low and rumbling, like a gentle hug. “What are you thinking about?”