Divorce
On a Sunday morning, it might have been fall or spring, my parents woke from their sleep. What was the conversation like for them that morning as they woke, for the last time, in the same bed? In the same room. In the same house. Was it conversation or was it argument? Did it re-affirm what they were about to do? Did they question themselves? Did the sheets feel any different? Did the air smell different? How long had it been stale? Half the day went by before they called us upstairs. What went through THEIR minds? For me, the mind decides what it remembers. It was the in-between type of weather where some of the house windows could be open…where t-shirts worked as long as a sweatshirt was handy. The three windows of the computer room were slightly ajar. My brother, sister and myself had been called to the computer room by our parents. It was an odd request, one that interfered with the amount of daylight my brother and I would have left to frolic around our yard and cu...