Blame the Lake

As a child, I hated the weeks my dad worked the midnight

shift, expecting the entire family

to maintain perfect silence, else carry the blame

for his lack of sleep. I learned early that no one will defend

me when I’m identified as the problem, stranded in a lake

of hatred and isolation where children can’t be children.

I’m not sure why my parents had children,

maybe I was the result of an intoxicated midnight,

perhaps at the beach or the lake,

maybe there was some abstract idea of family,

an idea more than a reality to defend,

and always, always, my lion’s share of blame

Who better to blame

for the lack of perfection than the children?

We Gen Xers have always had to defend

ourselves and be home by midnight,

away from the family

we made for ourselves, safe and serene as a lake.

We spent weekends at the lake,

where there was never a shortage of fault-finding or blame,

I have different ideas than most of you about family,

know that some never stop being children,

live their lives in a permanent midnight,

acting out angrily about what they can’t defend.

My life has been an uphill battle, forced to defend

myself from the human monsters at and in the lake,

prowling after midnight.

Who do we blame

for what they do to the children

allegedly protected by family?

What is a family?

A complex system of guilt to defend,

pretending to love and protect children,

Vulnerable in sleeping bags at the lake,

with no one liable or claiming any blame

for the atrocities that happen after midnight.

Don’t take your family to the lake

unless you’re willing to defend them and shoulder your share of blame

for the horrors that plague children after midnight.