Through the Circus Score

I remember a moment at my Granny and Grandpa Harp's house, although I dont remember my exact age. It was before she and Grandpa added the extra space onto the back of the house. My father was standing at the breakfast bar where it separated the kitchen from the living space. I was in the living room near the TV and through the birdcage swing in between us, as he adjusted his glasses by gripping the outer rim at top and bottom with his thumb and middle finger pushing them further onto his nose, he said "One day you'll tell us how smart you'll think we are". Referring to the carnal way that children think their parents are harsh and never understand, forgetting that they once wore our shoes and walked along the very same pathways. Theres just been a few different stones and some new shrubbery added along the way. Not at all major things. Chalk it up to the deteriorating value of the dollar and the current fashion flare. Although the fashion at the time may constitute a better fit in the parents shoes than known. Fashion is just an undying circle anyway, constantly repeating itself. The ironic instant for the child lies in the moment they find themselves standing on the opposite side of the swing. In this moment, mirroring images flash by reveling details of how the child has become a mesh of their parents, more importantly in their likeness. Someone just the other day said "Howdy" in passing and I thought of my dad walking inside to visit family and also pronouncing Howdy through a smile, as he waved his hand into a semi-circle hello motion. I hear his voice, leaving my mouth when I stand up tactfully and proclaim that I am not getting what I have paid for, when I feel that I may be getting the run around. There are times that I realize I contort my mouth in the same way my mom does when shes stirring something in a pan or concentrating on something on a piece of paper -lips tight in a pout. Or the way I have a compulsive need to chew the ice left in my glass after the liquid it contained has been finished, just as my mother needs to do.

I'm not yet old enough to relinquish exactly how smart I think my parents are, just as in their eyes Ill always be the young one, the child, regardless of my age or maturity. Some things just remain unchanged. Though sometime in between the misunderstanding and the realization of where we now stand, I believe we honored the soul on the opposite of the swing in the pit our being where its quiet and we do our deep thinking. Its safe down there. We may not have always had easy times. However, I can see what I immaturely viewed years ago as them not just putting a kink or cramp in my life, but blowing it up and creating destruction. However, am now older and have had enough life experience to appreciate what at that time, I could not see though my naive sight.

I cannot honor enough the knowledge that I have a home in which to return modestly to the welcome mat, as loud as the circus music plays, that embraces me and doesnt ask questions as why I'm back and when I am leaving. Although my decisions and theirs may not collide, the belief that my family will be there if I fall with an outstretched hand, only then to brush the dirt off the spots on my body that I cannot see, is priceless. And if I do not fall, rather than pouting about how things did not unfold in their light, I have confidence that I will get a wave of support and a standing ovation still, and in that I get a bittersweet taste on my tongue. I carry around with me always and pull out more often than my family may realize the laughter, smiles and even tears taught and given by them and what they have provided.

Time breezes by as the days quickly fall from the calendar and its nice every now and again to remind those who walk with me, even when they are not there, that they do so. Its hard for me to list all of the moments that, only for lack of another possible action, I owe a humble thanks or acknowledgement. So I say simply thanks as the circus chant plays, something else I carry with me. I like that music that plays under the tent. I'm proud to say its part of what makes me who I am. I can't help but play it in the background of the personal boom box of my being. Along with the 'You Are My Sunshine' song that my dad sang to me while helping me to get ready for school, as I do the same while doing my own daughters hair in the morning. And the song my soul sings as I tuck her in by reading a book, because I was taught, by my mother's example the importance of reading to your children. I get an indescribable feeling knowing that I'm honoring my parents without initially realizing by passing on that which was passed on to me, in an eternal circle, at the close of a day and the beginning of the next. Now as I take my fathers spot on the opposite side of the swing, making sure to try and take notice of the added rocks and undergrowth, I can also see my parents' faces as they cross the parental graduation stage. Isnt this what constitutes the diploma on which I have printed the names of my parents? As part of joining my Dad on his side of the swing I realize it is the job of a parent to prepare the child for a life when the lead of a parent is not needed and helping them to become a valuable member of society. Our offspring are not owned property, only on loan. At some point I'm going to have to let go. I'm betting all my chips on my parents helping me through it. Hoping they wont let go of the whispered phrase, "I'll never stop being a parent", by showing me how to succeed in their light. I guess, somewhere inside the crazy circus score I found my voice saying "Mom, Dad. I finally get you, and understand all the moments that in the past left me confused and angry. I only hope to have your same success...I actually, think you're both pretty smart."