Life isn’t simple, as I’ve found to believe through the years. It has its ups and downs, as if you’re on a never-ending roller coaster. I’ve found that my experiences had numerous downfalls. Sometimes it felt worse enough for hurling. I’m not the only kid from a broken home, I’m just one child of many who wants to share her moments of change. One instant in time that calls for a test of faith is my parent’s divorce.
I was ten years old when my father divorced my mom. I had just learned how to ride a bike, and my father was somewhere in Phoenix. I felt content with the way I lived, even though the school year I finished was filled with late mornings and drowsy attendance. My brother and mother were my companions throughout my third grade summer, along with my four cats and two dogs. The house sat near the alley, with the wilting flowerbed, the blue shutters, and the tattered awning that used to be a car port. It was there after eight years that my life in Tempe ceased.
I thought that when my father came for his intermittent visits, he would take me and my brother to a restaurant, or a location of amusement. This particular day wasn’t like usual. I remember my father pulling up to the curb and letting us greet him with a warm hug. I ran back as quickly as I could to the house, grabbed my black-and-white cat, Gateway, and returned with an unhappy feline. “Can we bring her,” I asked in anticipation? “No,” my father retorted. With a slight decrease in pride, I raced back to Mom and promised my mother with a bear-hug and a safe trip back. I departed to the station-wagon, oblivious to how much truth there was in my mother’s denial. I still can’t forget the tears in my mother’s hazel eyes; glistening wet behind her round glasses.
When we settled into my father’s apartment, I was met with the touch of new; I had to make new friends, and I only saw my Mom every other weekend. Then, the custody battle became a churning pot of molten chaos. My mother picked at every wrong step Dad took with us, and threw it in his face. It pretty much ended with experience in moving-in and between home at short notice, and my deciding to pick at the scabby past. I ended up as a child forced to grow through her skin and barely surviving the emotional pain of it. Thankfully, I came out in nearly one piece, and I make up for it in my hyper personality.
Before that event that made my future fall like dominoes, I believed in the goodness of people. This being said, that made me deny the fact that the verbal ammunition thrown between my parents were true. I didn’t believe my father was a liar. I believed him as my one and only dad who tried to fend off his demons. I didn’t think my mom was crazy. I thought of her as my wonderful mother who had great emotional capacity.
The values I had were of love, compassion, empathy, responsibility, and prudence. I cared for the well-being of my family, shared sympathy with their sadness, and understood their pain in a way that brought me to their level. I took charge of looking after my brother as my parent’s slept, and lived my life morally. Without these values to start with, I would have been less of a big sister to my brother.
The values I attained through the years pretty much loads the truck, but the most important ones I’ve learned from my parent’s custody battle are simple: respect, faith, knowledge, wisdom, and cooperation. I gained respect for the different women my father dated and their lifestyles. My faith in God strengthened with the knowledge of my tests, trials, and dependence. I became wise with the experience I had and grew to be an intelligent and talented young lady, and I learned to cooperate with the people in my life, no matter what stress was brought along.
To repeat for sake of repeating, life isn’t simple. I’ve gone through as much as one would at this age, and possibly even more, but the day that started my struggle will never be forgotten in my memory. It’ll take even more words than it needs to, but it has to be said. If you ever want to get out of life with the best possible options, don’t mess up, and listen to your parents. They may be hard to deal with sometimes, but they love you and they know what their saying.