Divorce. A devastating separation of the only union I had known. My “mom and dad” were now “mom” and “dad”. Time spent with mom was spent without dad. Time spent with dad was periodic: I wasn't given the opportunity to see his face everyday, more like every weekend or every other weekend. It was as if I was forced to be two different characters, a distinct identity living at a house when I was with mom and an entirely new identity in a new place with dad.

The six year age gap between my brother and I certainly did not help the situation. He was in middle school while I was in elementary, and then a few years later he was constantly gone with friends and living at my dad’s house without me or my mom. There was no relationship between the two of us except saying that he was my brother and I was his sister. We weren't familiar, we weren't anything but people who shared the same mother and father, now broken into two mismatched entities.

Obviously I wish it had gone differently. Obviously I would rather have had my mom married to my dad forever. Obviously I seem to always wonder what it would have been like if they hadn't separated when I was six years old. However, I would have never met my best friend or began the endless, solid friendship we have pieced memorably together. I wouldn't have had the same valuable teachers or meaningful education. I wouldn't have gained the mindset and understanding of having divorced parents.