Parenting

It’s a balancing act, performed on one foot,
a thousand feet in the air
on a tight rope

We each carry a stack of plates
and we try to pass them back and forth
hopes, dreams, fears, needs

And then we added her

She enters the act with her own plates
that she throws to us
as she bounces across our rope

We frantically try to catch her,
her plates, a few of our plates spin
wildly.

Some fall.

And we all wobble
But we find our balance
A new balance

One that leaves me clinging
desparately holding to the rope
with my toes

With plates balanced on my nose
as I hold my arms to either side,
a wishful frame of safety around her

And he is wild-eyed
holding more plates
his, hers, and mine

But the music starts

And we smile
and begin to dance

because in the end,
you can dance,

or fall

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Talk to me, Baby!

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