My parents are separating and my dad has talked more with me in the past three days than we'd normally talk in a year.
Today my brother said, "I love you" for the first time since we were little.
I've been the pillar of strength for everyone this week. Then, she called. I must have cried for thirty minutes straight while I listened to her voice, because she's my mommy, and I think she might end up okay after all.
Angry at first, she went missing for the first 24 hours. But now she is talking to my brother and I again, and her sister who she hasn't spoken with for a decade. She's near the sea, but won't tell me where. I heard a hint of youth in her voice tonight. A spark of hope and adventure from deep within. The sound of a woman who has rediscovered a long forgotten part of herself. Next week we will meet in a different city, like secret agents. I like this new side of my mom.
Passover starts this weekend, and my dad will be at my in-law's house with matzos and manischevitz.
Divorce is the parting sea. I see my family there, in the middle, the little tribe. We're on our way to a place we've never been but have heard stories about. The rustle of misery chases our shadows, but we're determined runners. We'll carry each other on our shoulders if we have to.
Anyway, I hear the story ends well.
12:44 a.m. - 2008-04-19