We Fell Apart

Nauseous with Nostalgia

I've always found the morality in humanity to be lacking. Maybe because the world is tainted with hypocrisy. Or maybe it wasn't humanity in itself that I found to be lacking. Maybe it was the concept of life that I found difficult to grasp. Throughout life we're taught of an unconditional love that we'll never know, a brighter morning that many won't experience or the simultaneous beauty and repulsion that the universe endlessly provides. Death, famine, rape, war, cruel injustice, poverty, depression and murder. Flowers, marine life, art, movement, light and speed. The only thing that remains the same throughout is that the bad will always outweigh the good.

I remember the day my parents finally split up as thunderous with pouring hail when in reality it had been a scorching spring day, the sun beating down on us as usual and the fresh air filling our noses. With a lot of effort I remember the day, of course from my own perspective and my jumbled seven year old mind failed to remember the events as they happened. The divorce and separation weren't necessarily traumatic as separation is something of a regular occurrence in our day and age. Which isn't to say neither me nor my sister felt the aftermath that was caused by the divorce. The emotional stability that my father had provided for years on end had come to an abrupt halt and our lives, for a while, began to crumble around us.

"I'm sick of this Amy! All you ever do is work. You have two beautiful daughters just in the next room and you can't stop to appreciate how lucky you are to have them both well and alive? To have them at all!"

"Don't you dare!" My mother screams from the other room.

I feel a sob well up in my throat and Katlyn's hands fumble with my hair, continuing to messily braid it. The movements were calming and that was the only thing keeping me from crying out for my parents to stop screaming at each other.

"Katy?" I whisper finally.

"Skylar, I don't know!" She says fiercely already knowing I was going to ask if our parents would be getting a divorce like Jackie Millers'.

We fall back into a silence listening to the occasional snip of conversation floating in from our parents room.

Finally, when the anxiety was too much to handle, my mom's voice echoed throughout the house, leaving me feeling empty. "Then leave!" She roared. After that a few doors were banged and somehow I processed it in my seven year old mind that daddy would be gone for good.

And so he was.

♡♡♡♥♥♥

I suppose now, I realise that I'm more like my mom than I'd ever imagined. We were both driven so far by self motivation that we became our own sponsors, more than independent and I was repeating the past. I had desperately figured out that the words my father had so harshly shouted to my mother that day had bern for her own good. Kevin had the same things to me even though I'd refused to hear them in that moment. I refused to believe them. With my parents whoever it wasn't always bad. We had some good times.

"Press here, Skye." My dad instructed.

I looked at the complicated contraption in my hands. I furrowed my eyebrows and my dad through his head back and laughed at my expression.

"Skye, do me!" Katlyn shouts.

My dad fixes the camera in my hand and helps me press the button, successfully snapping a picture of Katlyn, her hair blowing in the wind as she swings, a wild expression on her beautiful, youthful face.

"Oof!" My mom exclaims as she tries to dodge Katlyn's flailing feet. She laughs and moves the last tray of food to the picnic table which was already set out. My dad had lovingly made an assortment of salads and vegetarian burgers for me.

"Amy, watch out!" my dad instructed her as she almost tripped over a stub. She flashes him a dazzling smile and places the the snacks on the table.

"Food's ready!" My mom exclaims.

Katlyn squeals in delight and jumps off the swing. I snap a few more pictures of my family before taking a seat on the bench of the picnic table.

The loud chatter of my small family fills my ears.

"Mommy, can I get a plat?" I ask, interrupting her conversation with my dad. "Honey, we're eating, later?" my mom says smiling at me. I nod and flick my dirty blonde hair over my shoulder. I wrinkle my nose and grab a lock.

"Why is my hair different?" I ask.

My parents shoulders stiffen and my mom looks away, pain painted across her pretty face. I wouldn't have recognised the emotion at that point because I was so young. In my mind there were just some things adults couldn't speak about to kids. That was as far as my knowledge of this situation went.

"Well honey, we're all different." My dad said stiffly. I nodded my head as if I understood.

I also acted as if I understood why my parents became to act different for the rest of the day or why soon after that the fights and arguments begun. And a year after that they split up. It was too much for my five year old mind to process. I wish then I could have known why my parents were acting the way they were. The sickening feelings of resent that follow today as I put the pieces together are too much to bare and for a while after my parents got divorced, I blamed my mother for it. She was always working and daddy didn't want that.

Oblivion was the most bliss feeling I'd ever experienced. I wish I'd savoured it.