Part I: Since when do we have family meetings?

Homework is calling, but this blank page is calling louder. I need to write, to share my story. I'm assuming nobody will find this (but clearly you found it if you are reading it now), but I just need to say: this isn't for you. This is for me. ALL for me. To figure out why I am who I am, to really get to know myself. I need to remember the past, and while it only contains 16 years, memory is selective. So this won't be easy, I know that. I'm not going to start at the very beginning. I don't have time for that! But if I recall correctly, childhood was grand--full, rich, happy.


Henry (11) and I (7) were in the midst of building one of our infamous couch cushion forts with the ratty ol' salmon colored couch. It was the weekend and it seemed like any other weekend day filled with play. "Henry and Sophie, we're having a family meeting, come sit down," Mom said calmly. A family meeting? Since when do we have family meetings? Henry and I sat Indian style on the floor while Mom and Dad sat on a couch in front of us. They were about to tell us something that no parent ever wants to tell their kids, and something no kid ever wants to hear. Mom started, "Your dad and I have something we need to tell you..." There was a long pause as I watched her bottom lip quiver and tears start rolling down her cheeks in slow motion. "Your Mom and I love you both and Lucy very much. However, we're getting divorced--separated. Taking a break from each other, spending time apart and it's not your fault," Dad finished. My little seven year old heart sank. Shock. Confusion. Did I hear them wrong? Separation? Is that really what they mean? I looked down at the floor during the next long pause. When I looked up, Mom's eyes were saying sorry and asking for forgiveness. Dad's eyes welled up with tears. I examined their faces, not knowing what the future held. Mom composed herself, "Dad's going to move out for a little while, and we'll see how things go." "So it might not be forever?," I asked. "Right, we'll see...," she said. I wanted her to say no, of course it won't be forever, this is just temporary, but that wasn't the response I got. I reassured my young self, told myself that it might not be forever, that my mommy and daddy's marriage hadn't totally gone down the drain, but I knew better. And at that, the meeting was over. I remember having more questions, but not being able to ask them, in fear of getting more answers I wasn't ready to hear. I didn't cry a single tear that day, but my soul felt crushed. That family meeting (which was missing a member of the family!) is the last memory I have of Mom and Dad together. It was forever, just as I had known deep down.