December 9, 2010
By Anonymous

“Hey guys!” My Dad yelled, but not due to anger. “Your Mom and I have…” he paused, “have something to tell all of you.”
My brothers, Aaron and Matthew, and I ran up the stairs to our parents’ bedroom with confused looks on our faces, wondering, “What’s going on?” “And what happened?”
After lots of conversation, our confusion turned to weeping after that fateful sentence from my parents’ mouths lingered in the silence and then painfully entered our ears.
“We are getting a divorce” my parents recited in unison.
Ever since my parents spoke those words, my life has been screeching downhill like the run away train in Unstoppable with my brothers and I hanging on for dear life.
As I look back on it, I’ll never forget when my dad didn’t sleep in his own bed. Instead he would rest on our musty, old couch every night or during the day for a nap.
“I know its hard and different Josh,” he would explain to me, “But, that’s how divorces work.”
I would just look at him straight in the eye and say, “But, it’s not fair! You’re supposed to be in your OWN bed!!!” Then, I’d run up to my bedroom and lock the door to finally let the tears run out.
One day, I after I woke up from my bed and went down stairs to the main floor I had noticed something. The couch where Dad had continuously slept on was empty, and he wasn’t anywhere to be found.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked Mom that morning, with worried puppy eyes, while she made us breakfast.
“Yeah, where is he?” Aaron and Matthew questioned, with a frown on their faces, rubbing there eyes as they came downstairs.
My Mom sighed, looked down, then back up at us, and stopped making our breakfast to tell us.
“Well…, he actually found a new apartment, which is where he’s going to live from now on, “she said.
“When are we going to see him?” My brothers and I asked.
“Your father and I made a schedule, you’ll stay here for 2 weeks and on the last weekend is when you’ll see him, and this will repeat.”
“But, that…that’s only two days!” We screamed.
My Mom was about to reply, but she saw steam coming from the food, and immediately turned towards it.
“Breakfast!” She announced to change the subject.
As it turned out, we ended up living like this for 3 years. We visited our Dad often in his small, nice apartment, but it never felt the same being with him, and not Mom.
Now that I look back on it, this was a good thing that helped me learn that “different”, doesn’t always mean bad. The important thing is that I know I have two parents that still love and care for me. Now I know what divorce truly means, and the meaning is change.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece to show an important change in my life.

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