Training Wheels Off

I was standing at the kitchen sink doing dinner dishes.

Water running.

Mom talking.

Softly.

From across the room.

As if I came equipped with bat ears.

I spun around with my patented...

Mom...what the actual fuck? look.

Boom.

I'm six years old again.

Funny how a running faucet can time travel.

Here's the thing...

I love my mom.

Like...I really love my mom.

That ain't the question.

The question is...

What the hell do I do with the little girl who's still standing inside me wondering where her turn was?

Every time I even think about telling the truth about this, the Grateful Police show up.

She's still here..

She's old and fragile

Others would give anything....

Yep.

I know.

And none of that kills what happened...

or what didn't.

Two things can be true.

I can love my mother with my whole heart...

and still be picking through the rubble of a little girl who needed something different.

These days, I don't spend much time trying to convince little Beth she's okay.

She knows.

She's in good hands.

Mine.

Maybe that's enough for today.

Holding my mother's hand...

while never letting go of my own.

Training wheels off.

Watch me.