It hit me in a matter of fact way last week that I am a single mom. I know that sounds redundant but I don’t think of it often as a way to describe myself (unless I need help carrying something heavy). I realized not just a single mom but the one, you know, you read about in those teen books or watch in an ABC after school special that is doing it all, raising her children by herself, counting her blessings, but sometimes scared too. I thought that might be a bridge solo job but now I see as my eldest is in grade 12, that I have really raised her by myself.
I feel like this tightrope walker, holding my breath, exhilarated by the challenge and afraid of it too. I am aware of the hushed silence around me, the people sometimes amazed below, a bunch of them waiting for me to fall, a few of them looking up my skirt ( you know I can’t resist comic relief), and one or two saying “I don’t know how she does it”.
I am balancing the weight of playing both roles, all roles. I can’t let down my guard, can’t relax. I want everything for them and I am afraid of falling.