Sometimes events happen for a reason. Uncontrollable events that sweep you up like a wave and it’s better to go along with the current then die trying to fight it. My parents’ divorce was a long road, but it turned out to be the most important event in my life.

            Christmas morning 2006, The Christmas tree was pine green and the tinsel was glowing from the reflection of the lights. Santa had only arrived an hour or two before. My brother and I tore into our freshly wrapped presents.  Until only one was left behind. “It’s not mine” said my brother” my name isn’t on it”. Eagerly awaiting my new present I looked down at the tag. It wasn’t my present either. It wasn’t anyone’s present, the tag was blank. Just like my brain when both presents ran into the other room furious. My brother asked me “what happened, what’s wrong?’ I told him “I don’t know mommy and daddy are just really tired” Then I asked about his new toys to take his mind off on the situation at hand. There was yelling and distance on Christmas. I’m sure that Santa would have put one thousand pieces of coal in their stocking, because I know that is what I felt like doing.

             A few months later, my parents sat my brother and me down and they told us they needed “space”. That was just a simple way of telling us that they had given up. I was so agitated, when I got into a fight with my brother we didn’t give up. We made up with a hug and “I’m sorry”. I ran into my parent’s bathroom and locked the room. I cried until my parents told me to unlock the door. I did. They crouched beside me and held my shaky body. I wanted them to leave. It wasn’t the divorce that made me loathe my parents. It was the lie they had told me before. I went to spend the night with my friend, Amy. Amy had another girl spend the night with us. Her parents were getting divorced at the time. After hearing how awful it was I wanted to make sure that neither my parent nor I would have to go through that kind of pain. I came home and asked them if they were ever going to get a divorce. They patted me on the back and laughed at the idea. I guess the far off imagination of a child wasn’t that far off as they might have guessed.

            I was having a hard time dealing with the news, so I went to the elementary school counselor. She invited me to a big group called that Rainbow Club. I meet some of my best friends. We were able to talk about what was going on in our homes, but that wasn’t the topic every day.  Sometimes we would talk about dream telling and the best part was every Thursday the group would get to miss physical education. Every now and then I miss that support group, because then one day I needed the group. My world had shifted. I made a bad grade on a science test. A single tear fell on my paper. I didn’t want anyone to see me cry on I sat on the floor exploring my book bag, and a student noticed. The divorce, the feeling of rejection, and my grades had gotten to me. My heart started racing, and I couldn’t breathe. I was brought out in the hallway and asked what was wrong, but I couldn’t say anything. My lungs had no oxygen inside them to be able to speak. I went to a new councilor. She didn’t know me as well. That’s when I realized I have to start dealing with issues myself. 

            Bringing a tiny suitcase to each parent’s house every other week was somewhat exciting.  It was like I was taking a vacation .After a while I got comfortable with the entire separate living situation. It wasn’t fun anymore, actually it was tiring. Planning your week was a tough job for a 5th grader. I’d move to a new house, and I knew that it would be exciting. Exploring the house, packing each week for a new vacation, and then suddenly the passion for exploring the new home isn’t so exciting anyone. How many times can you go inside your closet, and search for a secret tunnel?  I moved about three times before my parents actually figured out the whole living situation.

            Everything was fine. My parents had my brother and me. We were a happy broken family. I guess maybe it was just me who thought that. One night my brother and I were getting ready for bed, and eating a meal. My mom came to join me. It started out as a normal conversation about what we learned at school and then the conversation drastically changed. She asked us if we were alright with her starting to date. My face was come and I spoke soft, so soft maybe she wouldn’t hear me. I wanted my mom to be happy, but all I had ever known about stepparents were the ones from fairytales. The one that act nice to your face but treat you awful when you mom or dad is turned around. Honestly, I was scared. I didn’t know what to expect

            I meet my Henry first. I learned that he was a sweetheart. I saw why my mom loved him so much. I just had to open up a little, and I had never seen my mom any happier. I wasn’t going to ruin that relationship. Later on, my I met Jessica, my dad’s wife. It was easier for me to open up her. The more I get to know my stepparents I learn what a blessing they are to me. I’ve had so many opportunities that my parents couldn’t have given me. I’ve gotten to go to the Grand Canyon and Arizona. I’ve been so fortunate to learn about a theater in Colquitt, Georgia called Cotton Hall. My family is so broad now. I love meeting new aunts, uncles, and grandparents. It makes a once broken family feel whole again.

            Sometimes you can’t see the light until you are out of the dark. God works in mysterious ways. My parents’ divorce was my way of accepting things that I can’t control, and learning important life lessons that I will need to know for the future .Also I learned patience and acceptance, because I knew my life would never be the same. My parents’ divorce was sad, but it also about how even when things don’t go the way you think they should it can still turn out as a blessing.