You gave to us in ways you chose, And I won't deny that's true. You installed our security system, And dreamed of other things you'd do. You had so many fun ideas, And intended to follow through. For most, I bought the things you'd need, They are still waiting on you. I never chased the promises Or asked when they'd be done. I never made unfinished plans A measure of your love. I let you choose what mattered most, The timing and the pace, Then poured out thanks for what you did— Your priorities stayed in place. But one time out of hundreds, I said, “This one's important to me. I've made your dreams a priority— Could mine be one, just this once, please?” Not every plan, not every time, Not everything you'd do— Just this once I named the priority, Instead of leaving it to you. Instead of leaving it to you. When every dollar was key, Fifteen thousand bought the tools To help build what you dreamed could be. What joy we felt to see them used to Help make your dreams come true— We never thought they'd bought a voice, Or any right to govern you. Years went by, and more was given— A property, and then the shop. More tools and improvements followed, And somehow giving never stopped. We wanted sons beside their dad, And grandsons learning there— Three generations working close, Building memories they could share. None of it became a claim That we should run your life. We wanted you to build your dream. We wanted to see you thrive. So here's the question I keep asking, The part I can't explain— If giving never bought control, And money never bought a say, Why did asking for one priority Turn generosity to chains? Thirty seconds. One small video. One thing I asked from you. I waited weeks, then months went by, Hoping you'd value my need, too. I left the priority with you And waited there to see If something deeply important to me Could become your priority. But it had already stopped being a video— I needed something more: To know that I could matter enough For my need to come before. So finally I said it plainly: “The video needs to come first.” It wasn't really about the video— I needed to know you saw my worth. By then something had already changed, Your dad and I both knew. You had set the priorities for years, Chose what you wanted to do. But this time I needed my project to matter— I needed to matter too. Then came November—you yelled at your dad, “All you care about is money. You've got your house, your trips, your things—” And even then, it struck me funny. That's the part that still feels strange When I think about it now— If money was what mattered most, Why did so much leave our house? Before we ever had much money, We invested heavily in you. And when we finally found abundance, We kept investing heavily, too. Not because it bought obedience, Not to tell you what to do— We kept investing in your dreams Because we believed in you. So was it really about the money? Was it really about control? Because years earlier fifteen thousand, Didn't buy the right to tell you what to do. Buying the property hadn't changed that. Building the shop hadn't changed that. An open line of credit with no repayment plan Hadn't changed that. Until— One request. One video. Thirty seconds. My project—the priority. ONE TIME! I let you choose a thousand times How to show you cared. I celebrated everything you did And thanked you when you shared. And you weren't wrong for choosing The things you wanted to pursue— But was I wrong, just once, to say, “This time, I need this thing from you”? I'd made your dreams a priority More times than I could count. I wasn't asking for control. I wasn't keeping an account. I asked for one thing that mattered, One thing I needed you to do— And after years of letting you choose, I chose one priority too. Maybe money wasn't the problem. Maybe it wasn't even control. Maybe we'd grown used to a pattern We didn't recognize at all. You gave in ways you wanted. And I appreciated you. I let you choose And choose And choose... Until one time— I chose too.
