I could hear their voices bouncing off the walls like we were in a cave. This happened when I was in third grade. I had just moved to New York for my dad’s work. I had lived there for about a year and a half, and my dad often worked late while my mom did not work at all. My parents started arguing more, and usually the arguments were held when they were the only people up. Their conversations were often loud, and could be heard through the walls. They stopped talking to each other around my siblings and I, and when they did talk it was an argument. They kept the talking to late at night when we were asleep. I did not think anything was wrong, but I was 8. Thinking about it now, I realise that something was wrong. Then the news arrived. It was a November afternoon. The sun was out, but it felt like it could snow. There was a strange tension in the room as my mom had us sit around her while she and my dad told us the news.
My mom and dad had tears in their eyes. “Your dad and I are breaking up.” My mom explained.
Everyone was in tears because of the news. Well everyone except me. Time seemed to stop as I stood up and locked myself in my room. Keeping the emotions locked up and away. I did not cry then, I stayed strong in a weak time. Things were a bit awkward after that. The yelling stopped, but the feel of the house was different. We never looked each other in the eyes anymore. And if we did we broke eye contact right away. In December my mom announced that we were moving back to Rhode Island, but a different town. That is how I got to Cumberland.
My dad went to live with his mom until he found a place for himself. I started going to school at Cumberland Hill. With the divorce came the custody battle. Who gets the kids when. My mom got full custody and my dad gets to take us every Wednesday and every other weekend. In one month, I went through a divorce, moved away from my friends, and started at a new school. The years went on and I fell into a routine. I got to see my mom weekdays and my dad Wednesdays and weekends. They both met people they were happy with.
It was sixth grade when it hit me. My parents were divorced. This was the time I allowed myself to cry. They broke a promise that they made to each other. They promised each other that they would love them forever. That was when promises just became words to me. They never kept them, so I never looked forward to what they promised. I shared a room with my sister so I got use to hiding my emotions. I became the master of bottling my feelings up.
This year I started seeing a therapist. I guess the divorce helped me out. Without it I would probably still be in New York. It’s hard to forgive someone when something like this happens. But I have mostly forgiven my parents for what happened. And I don’t know if I will ever get to the point of forgiving, but I’m working up to it.