The room was dim and quiet. It was painted light blue with clouds added in to give it that “real” effect. The decoration was my idea; I loved laying down in the grass and coming up with what cloud looked like what. The painted clouds were a set shaped, but my imagination always created something out of it. On one of the walls with a cloud in the shape of an elephant or sometimes snail (don’t ask how), every one of my toys was lined up for their daily inspection. I took serious care of my belongings, even if it was just a cotton-stuffed dog with a red bandana tied to it. The mind of a 10-year old works in mysterious ways, but it never fails to go above and beyond its creative limits.
Eventually, I started to faintly hear something in the distance. It was almost like a whaling sound, with a touch of aggravation in there. I brushed it off and continued my inspection. I was 10, I had other problems to worry about. But then the sound kept getting louder and louder, until my mother entered my room and asked me to step outside.
“Just one more second, I’m almost done!” I begged.
“Now,” she commanded.
Frustrated as expected, I grabbed my cotton-stuffed, stylish dog and stepped outside. With my father on one side and my mother on the other, my parents informed us they were getting a divorce.
“Divorce? What does that even mean?” I wondered. I remained quiet and looked down at my toy. Amidst all the arguing, crying, and debating that followed, I just focused on my toy. I noticed its black, marbled eye had a chip in it that grew bigger every day. It’s soft, plushy feel to it felt rough and dirty. The ears were ripped up and its tail was coming loose. Why was I just noticing these flaws on this toy, my most favorite toy? Then I realized something: this was not my favorite toy any more, it was the first memory of my parents’ divorce.
It stared back at me with the same blank expression I had on my face. I was lucky to not feel alone at that moment, even though I was with three other people in the room.
The arguing stopped in the living room, but continued outside. I was still very much confused on what had happened and why it was happening. Why was my father leaving? I had no answers to any of my questions. It’s difficult for a inexperienced, innocent mind to take on such a complex issue like divorce and see it happen before their own eyes. I never once thought it would end up the way it did, but you learn that happens frequently as you grow older.
After that moment, the light blue room with its painted clouds became just a room, and my most favorite toys just became toys. My imagination struggled to survive, trying to entertain the idea that I could feel happy at that moment again. But it did not take long until I realized that my happiness comes from my own definition of it. What makes me happy might not make someone else happy and vice versa. This thinking has allowed me to overcome many of those questions I could never answer about divorce by myself. I often wonder what would have happened if the divorce never happened, but that makes you wonder, what type of person would I be if it weren’t for that experience?
