You & Me

by Tal Bauer

But if I could cut my failure out, would there be anything left of me?

He looked like he dined on happiness.

“I don’t know what to do.” The admission was agonizing, the words clawing inside my throat. “None of us do. Being a parent is like driving a car without brakes. You grip the wheel and hold on tight, pray you don’t crash too hard.”

that as long as he was around, I didn’t have to worry about bullies. He said he’d take care of the meanies so I could be me.”

How the fuck was he single?

He made me feel something bigger than happiness and excitement. Things like anticipation. Potential. Forever.

“Where did you come from?” His words were whisper soft. “How did you find me?”

Were parents and children ever truly parted? Or were our lives braided together, he and I linked always, no matter what? Cut the braid that bound us and we may unravel, but the frayed spots where we’d spent years together would always be inside our souls.

A parent can never stop loving their child.

A child isn’t the same, though. A child can unlove you. A child can look at you and find you wanting, realize you’re not great, not wonderful. Parents don’t get a free pass on a lifetime of love. Blood loyalty doesn’t run upstream. If you’re a terrible parent, there’s no obligation for your child to love you after the nightmares you’ve put them through. A child’s love is hard-fought, hard-won. You have to earn it.