I was only around four years old when my parents separated, and five years old when they signed the divorce papers. From what I’ve noticed, adults seem to feel really sympathetic towards you upon hearing that you need to put two addresses in the school directory.

“I’m always here if you need to talk," I’d often hear. Why? Talk about what? My parents' divorce was probably the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

Let me tell you about my dad: He’s a sarcastic and hilarious bad-boy from the Bronx who may have gotten into trouble as a youth. Don’t worry, I’m not insinuating that he definitely got a toilet thrown at his head by a teacher (which may or may not have happened), but he’s more of a street-smarts guy. He probably didn’t read all of his assigned English books in high school, but he can definitely tell you where to get the best Chicken Parmigiana in every borough of New York City.

And then, there’s my mom.

She’s definitely the smartest woman I know. She’ll be damned if she doesn’t read The New York Times every day, and she always knows the answer to my history questions. She can tell by one touch whether it’s a fever or a stomach bug and has that nurturing gene.

I picture my mom and dad in a room together, and I want to vomit. Thank God they’re divorced. In high school, if I got upset with my mom and wanted to make a scene by leaving, my dad’s house was only a few stops away. If I wanted to watch that new crime documentary that my dad can’t stomach, (even though he can quote "The Godfather" beginning to end) I can go to my mom’s house.

I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it’s true. I definitely have told my mom that I’m sleeping at my dad’s house when I was really having a sleepover with my ninth grade boyfriend (sorry mom and dad, who are definitely reading this).

Basically, the moral of the story is that the divorce allowed me to get closer to my parents in different ways. Although it was really annoying when that one dress I needed to wear was at my dad’s, and I had a party near my mom’s, I’m glad I had two houses to call home.

From my dad, I learned about the game of Basketball. At his house, with all his dad-like technology and surround-sound, we could flip through different games without having my mom get bored and want her silence. Yet, at my mom’s house, I could watch my true crime shows without having my dad scold me, saying that “this shit is going to fuck you up, Kathryn. Stop watching it.”

I may be unique in my situation, and that’s okay. I know divorce can be traumatic and devastating for kids, especially when they have fond memories of their parents being together and happy. The only memories I have of my parents together are of them switching off having me, and that’s fine.

Plus, I got a great stepfather out of it, who, unlike my dad, is willing to read The New York Times and talk about literary things.

I urge every child of divorce, no matter what you’re feelings are, to look at the bright side, and realize how things may have turned out.