My children have always known I’ve had feet of clay;
I've never pretended to be perfect.
They were protected however
from knowing exactly how close to the edge
those feet of clay got
on any given day,
or how precarious the ground was
under my feet.
For those of you who haven’t parented solo,
there’s a lot we single moms protect our kids from knowing.
I tried to convey I was in control,
that I could handle
whatever they - or the world -
threw at me.
I may also have given them the message
that I’d always be there
to help them deal with
whatever came their way as well.
Hard conversations this weekend reminded us all
that when the ground shifts beneath your feet
is generally beyond your control;
that some things your parent presents as truth
is actually wishful thinking
- spoiler alert -
whether clay or flesh
are attached to mortal beings
subject to crumbling.
Conversations not for the faint of heart,
although we will deal with whatever comes next -