Divorce is hard on kids. Maybe that’s obvious to the point of sounding trite, but I also think that given how frequently marriages end, it’s easy to be numb to how that impacts kids — our own little ones as well as ourselves, for those of us whose parents didn’t work out.
Speaking for myself, at least, my parents splitting up meant my whole world splitting up. The whole thing rocked my sense of home, safety, and belonging. And honestly, the aftershock continues.
Below is a slice of my walk with all that:
It’s not the cigarettes
I don’t remember all that much about Eric except that he was cool and he was nice to me. When I hung out at his house, which I did a lot before he moved away in 2nd grade, the radio would be on in the laundry room, audible from both the den where they kept the Nintendo as well as from the back yard, through the screen door. This was in the days of 106.5 The Buzz; the Smashing Pumpkins and Bush and Silverchair and Pearl Jam ruled the airwaves.
Eric’s mom, who wore thick-rimmed glasses and had a name like Zelda or Venus or Moonbeam or some other flower child-type thing, would stand in the driveway and smoke Camels. I didn’t know any other adult who smoked, which I figured was because they all agreed with my parents, who always made a point of saying that smoking was super extremely gross and disgusting and terrible.
Zelda/Venus/Moonbeam and her husband split up because she decided she’d rather be with the guy from this other couple that was always visiting their house.
One night, my parents called me downstairs into the living room, which had wood-paneled walls, and asked me to sit on the couch, which had scratchy blue plaid fabric.
My dad hesitated before he spoke. “We have something to tell you,” he let out. Then neither of them said anything for a moment, probably because they weren’t sure what to say. I just waited.
He went on, tip-toeing through his words.
“We have something to tell you, and it’s kind of similar to something you know about Eric’s mom.”
Ah, I thought. I was smart. I could make this easy on them.
“I know,” I interjected, eager to assure them that I had already taken stock of the evils that went down on the driveway. “She smokes.”
My parents, both a little stunned, looked at me and then each other.
“No,” one of them managed. “Not quite.”
Then they told me they were getting divorced.
Imagine: there is a great earthquake coming, one that will turn the whole world upside-down. And when someone sits you down to impress upon you the gravity of what’s about to happen, you think they’re just stopping to tell you that your shoe is untied.
Thank you for sharing your writing. It's powerful in its simplicty and directness.
Well that must have turned your world upside-down. Can't imagine why they thought it might be a softer blow because your friend's mother was divorced.