The Split Up Caroline Kornberg

I’ve never really seemed to vividly remember my past, I tend to have a bad memory. However, this event stuck with me. It was bound to impact my life and change everything. Life had always been good for me, no worries, no problems. I had a big, nice house and my parents never fought, nor argued. You could tell that my dad loved my mom, but after a while it began to seem like the feeling were not mutual. She had always been distant when she was around him. My dad felt as if he may have been in the same room as her, but it felt like she was a thousand miles away.

I remember the night it happened, but not the day. This event would be the cause of everything, a domino effect. I had never expected that my mom would want to split up with my dad, I believed that she would one day learn to love him. It was about five years ago. It was nighttime, and my mom sat me down on the couch in the living room by myself. She began telling me how she much she cared about my father and how they were good devoted friends. I started to grow confused. Then the words came out of her mouth, “Your father and I are getting divorced.” I couldn’t comprehend the words that she was saying and I started to cry. She told me how many of my friends and my brother’s friends parents were also splitting up. As I layed there crying in my mothers arms she attempted to comfort me. Gradually, I started to feel better, but I still felt numb.

Days after the event occurred started to become weeks, my dad moved out and my worries were revolving around the thought that we would have to sell the house. I had so many precious memories there that I didn’t want to leave behind. I spent almost all of my time in that house. Finally, the words that I was dreading came out of my mom’s mouth, “We are going to have to sell the house.” I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. My heart shattered into millions of pieces. A burning sensation of pain flew through my body, a pain that was caused by sadness. A pain that I had never felt before.

As the days went by, my mother hired people to take pictures of the house to put up online. I tried to spend as much of my time distracted. Finally, after months of people checking out the house we had a buyer. With my friends, we tried to come up with plans and ideas to make the people not move in. I didn’t help my mom pack, I never packed a single item. When the moving day came I stood in my empty living room alone and started to cry once again. I said my good-byes and exited the house.

When I was moved into my new house that we had just bought, I hated it. Every second I had to talk to my mother I would say how much it disgusted me, just because it wasn’t as charming nor as spacious as my previous house. I would call the new house, “A shack.” and use hurtful words towards my mother. She grew very upset, even more upset than she was before for feeling bad for my father for leaving him.

Now, when I look back I have regret. I’ve come to realize that my new house is perfectly fine, it’s a decent size and my mom has put a lot of work into it to make it nice. I've also learned to forgive my mother by understanding why she left my father and understanding her side of the story. I never realized how lucky I was to even have a house and parents who loved me. I have forgiven my mother for divorcing my father, and changing life for me. Life has seemed to collect itself and all is well.

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