fragile

not until you stop at your parents house
and see how fragile they've become do you
give up on the idea of finding a way to tell them what's
really going on in your life... shelter is all you want to
provide... comfort and assurance that all is well
in your life... so you hide the ring finger that you've
taken the gold and diamond from, you tell them
pretty stories of tahoe and of your success as a supervisor
and you tell them nothing of what's real.... instead you ask
"what needs doing here?" you say "i'm not the daughter that brings you
homemade dinners, but i know how to work hard... what
can i do to help?" dad says, "your mom keeps tripping on the
stepping stones to the garden. we'll have to take them out some
day when you have more time." i say "i have time now." dad says
"ah, no. it'd take half a day." i say "i can do it in 20 minutes.
get me a pick and a wheelbarrow." so he does and i do.
my mom starts to cry watching me work.... she says
"you have to work so hard and then you come here and do more"
i say "i'm happy to do it. i love being physical and think of all
you did for me when i was growing up." this makes her cry even more.
she wonders aloud what she did to deserve such a loving daughter.
i tell her "you are a loving mother... that's where i learned how to
be loving." i hold her and feel every ounce of her concern as a mother,
and then i realize that my own child is going through
a tough time of his own and hiding it from me
because i am fragile too...
no apple ever falls far from the tree.