300 Dollars

I thought I was done borrowing money.

I sat staring at a balance too small to trust,

thinking of all the ways a life can narrow.

A marriage gone. The house going away.

Another bill due. I kept hoping

surely this is the bottom. Surely a man

cannot fall much farther than this.

When I went to her room,

She didn't ask questions.

Just, “Sure, Dad.” Money from a teenager’s

part-time job. The money transferred

a minute later to be paid back next paycheck.

And there I sat, relieved and ashamed,

holding on to the hope that borrowing from

my child was not the measure of my failure,

but the last rung before the climb back out.