Life when I was younger was like a movie; family vacations, happy holidays and even family dinners. Everyone was happy and we looked forward to each other’s presence. Even though I was a young girl, I still knew what it meant to be happy, and what to look forward too; and I’m not just talking about the presents at Christmas time or the cake at birthday parties, I’m talking about the love that was felt in my home.
Years went by, and my dad started sleeping downstairs in our living room on our infamous blue rocking chair. The chair that all of my friends knew because it was so comfortable. Well, when I asked mom why he was down there it was because he was, “snoring too loudly.” I was young, I believed it; I’ve heard the snores before. I thought it was going to be a short term ordeal, and when it turned into him sleeping down there for more than five years, I knew something wasn’t right. He even had to buy a new chair because the blue chair lost all of its behind-the-head cushion.
My parents began to talk less, and it seemed that when they did speak it was only because they needed something out of each other like a car payment. Things clearly weren’t progressing in a positive direction.
My brother and I just learned to “deal with it” because we were just the kids, we didn’t have any say in their relationship; my mom wouldn’t want to hear about it. When my brother left for school it became a time of doubt for me being home alone with my parents. I always questioned would they fight, or where would I go when I want to talk to someone since my brother was my go-to. I learned to deal with it, and I got to know my bedroom real well, because I never liked to leave.
Shortly thereafter, it was my turn to go to school, and part of me didn’t want to leave home, but the part of me that did wanted to get away from the mayhem. I didn’t want to be there if there was a chance of a fight or the awkward tension that would linger in the air.
The biggest question was why are they still together? They did it for us, dad always said we would get through school before he took any actions. Well, the time is here, it’s been two months since graduation, I’m living with my boyfriend and the news was sprung. My brother and I were told that a lawyer has been contacted and the process will begin; this is something we knew would come, but I didn’t think it would ever actually happen.
It was obvious they needed a divorce, let’s face it, they hated each other. Well, they still do hate each other. I don’t know what it is about hearing those words roll off my dad’s tongue that hit me so hard. Was it the fact that we would sell our house? The house that holds every childhood memory I’ve ever had. Or was it the fact that they just couldn’t be happy? They fell out of love so quickly, but why? Was it because of having kids, or their feelings just change? There is no clear answer that will supplement the questions about divorce. When I think of love, I think of the cinematic version where everything will be okay. I’m not saying I want that, exactly, but I do know that I don’t want to be my parents. I don’t want my kids to expect a divorce out of me nor do I want them to be unhappy and trying to make the best of it.