I was always trapped in the center <br />like the rusty fulcrum of the see-saw, <br />never way up, never way down <br />'The rule is not to argue against them <br />who from you, deserve respect. <br />Age is the edge they have over you. <br />Be considerate; yield to the younger <br /> ones -infants do not know any better.' <br />The one in the wrong. I was all times. <br /> <br />Mama, I cannot describe my sentiment <br />when you did not order my brother to <br />respect the twenty one months I lived <br /> earlier than he did. Remember? I locked <br />myself in a room and refused to eat, a <br />good excuse not to do the pile of dishes. <br />I resented you for not telling my sister- <br /> your daughter for close to a decade <br />longer than I am- to grant me an ample <br />berth of patience for my mistakes. I was <br />just the bold one, the quarrelsome one, <br />the one who overlooked the age gap. <br /> <br />You thought I was beyond intimidation. <br />You thought I did not need kid gloves. <br />I wanted room for righteous indignation; <br />you gave me one in another building- <br />the room for strength of character. <br />I had to bring home medals. I had to fail. <br />I had to get you to notice I could be on <br />top, or at the bottom, not in the center which <br /> eyes not so thorough could overlook. <br />I wanted out, out of the middle. Who would <br /> not? It is never the most cozy space. You <br />get squeezed from both sides till you ossify <br /> like stone and become irrelevant. Some <br />get tough, but that is the miracle. <br /> <br />Mama, you made me forget whether I <br />was the older or the younger. It never <br />mattered to you. You made me forget <br /> my age. To this day, I do not know.<br /><br />Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/middle-child-syndrome/
