I may have just screwed up, as a parent
She asked and I told her
It was a bit more complicated, of course
We believe in mystery, the spirit of not knowing, curiosity that comes in the months when it’s snowing, seeing stretched wide smiles stitched by a surprise that the fairy left bedside is the opposite of suicide
Well, dad, are they?
She looked me dead in the eye and said ‘Is this all real?’
Real? Yah, this is all real
Is he real, is she real, are they real
The rush of being truthful, not wanting to retire this tradition of trying to tread so lightly they can’t hear, the churning mind a touch of fear came crashing through with a lilt to her voice
Well, are you him?
We’re all him, seem to dim the bulbs flashing she gave a grin, then, the rims of her glasses filled, my eyes spilled the spool and words ceased.
A long beautiful changing stare, I remember this familiar feeling from before, she was 6 weeks old, sleep deprived and uncertain, my connection just beginning, she looked at me, our eyes fell into one another it was the moment I knew, she trusted me, it was simple, as love should be
I couldn’t stop it, the cat jumped over the moon with the cow crashing through the bag, tension and innocence trapped between our stare the tides of youth turned
I just need to hold you,
Question after question.
Or, is this all a part of growing up?
Yes, we are who you thought was them yet we are all of us and there is still him and her in you
A pronoun parade marched past her pre-teen door with a parent pretending to patch the porous floor of puberty and ‘oh what for’s’
Ugh, she should have drawn her own conclusions pounds in my chest, could I have held on like the rest of the questions and decisions without the curtain pulled forward, no, we’re the wizard, you’re the wizard, we’re all this thing the dread and undead, breathing beauty and movements. nothing is gone the words have changed she is now a different player in the game.
She asked, and I told her.