Trading
It’s not something a child wants to do.
But in times,
A parent becomes weak,
And needs to step down,
Before mistakes are made.
Leaving maybe the most unlikely person,
To end up becoming the adult of the house . . .
Yet,
I can come to myself to hate it.
As she kept running forward to get away from it all,
Tagging me along for the ride,
Cause it would be fun.
In some ways it was,
And in others,
Not.
But she needs it,
A hand to hold that won’t judge her.
And if it happens,
It matters and comes in snarky jokes.
Trading roles feels weird,
But it has become a role,
I can’t seem to walk away from,
Because that would mean,
I have given up on her.
That has yet to happen.
She’s trying and getting back on her feet.
Making something of herself and being . . .
Happy!
Fun!
Full of life!
Because she wants to be,
Even if the choices don’t add close to it,
It’s hers to make,
And mine to make sure stays under control,
From a far,
Just far enough to slap her out of it,
But enough space to breathe and come back.
And take back her role,
That I have made sure,
It hasn’t been stain.
It’s a matter many wouldn’t bother doing,
For it’s not their problem,
And walk away.
I would walk away,
Many times,
But only because I’m not thinking straight,
And less likely to be helpful for her!
I can’t do it!
Trading roles,
Hurts in many ways,
Heals in many ways,
And you just deal.
Because this someone who once,
Wanting another to get somewhere,
It’s time give it back.
Even if,
All else fails,
We both did what we could.
Win or lose.
I still have her,
And back.
That’s all that matters.
At least to me.
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