The Shoulders of our Children

I suppose we all visit,

Upon the shoulders of our children,

The leftovers from our own life’s baggage,

Those things we desire to repair from our pasts.

If we felt that rules and chores outweighed fun,

And relationships with loved ones came second,

Then we might well give too much freedom,

And let rules and discipline go out the window.

If, though, we lived with no guidelines,

Anything was okay as long as all were happy,

Then we might structure every aspect of life,

And have our family well regimented.

So the pendulum swings from one generation to the next,

As each of us attempts to repair the damage,

We remember the pain and the tears and the angst,

And the anger felt deeply or injustices borne.

Perhaps, in time, balance can be found.

There is value in many ways of living,

And though we don’t know it at the time of the living it,

There is value also, it what we dislike.

The farmer’s son who works so hard,

To finally get off of the farm,

Grows up and teaches his children to the same value,

For in working hard, dreams are realized.

And the Bankers daughter learns to be frugal and save,

She can’t wait to have a job and spend her cash as she wants.

But inevitably, she finds that there is value in saving,

And opens an account for each baby born.