When I was younger I felt like my parents were superheroes. I was a daddy’s girl and thought that my mom could do no wrong, that they were both perfect. My days usually consisted of going to school, coming home, waiting for both of my parents to come home from work, and fighting with my brother. I had my struggles but my life seemed normal and happy. I would go to parks with my family on weekends, ride my bike with my brother and the neighbor kids and everything was alright. My dad was my best friend and my mom was strict- not super strict just annoying to a 4th grader like myself. But like I said, everything was normal. At night I would say goodnight to my mom and my dad would read me a bedtime story. Or 6. When asked about things I was grateful for or what I loved, my immediate thought would be family, they were the best part of my life. I mean I looked up to them more than anyone or anything else. They were real-life superheroes. My mom for example I thought was super cool because of the work that she does. A real-life wonder woman. I thought that my dad was cool and funny. Both were how parents were meant to be. My home life was similar to all of my peers and I felt lucky I didn’t have divorced parents. I would never have to live through that. My parents are happy. At least that's what I thought. This all changed one afternoon.

It was a completely normal day. I hugged my parents, went to school, pet my dogs, and fought with my brother. But then it wasn’t a normal day. I thought that it was, but it was not. It was a seemingly calm night, dark already and raining outside. A light rain that you could barely even hear lightly tapping the roof. This kind of rain usually makes for my favorite nights, you sleep well and you’re happy. Except for this night. It's funny because I don’t recall paying attention to small details like the light rain but I remember them all. This night we had buttered noodles, bowtie to be exact. I also probably loaded on shredded parmesan cheese. The color of the bowl I used was yellow, another small detail that has yet to escape my mind. A completely normal boring dinner for a completely normal and boring afternoon. Though I did find it a bit strange when me and my brother were asked to sit in the living room instead of the dining room table. That's what we usually did, like how any other normal family would eat dinner. I remember sitting on the couch drilling a hole into my pasta with my eyes while my mom and dad told me and my brother they would be “separating”. What a funny word, why couldn’t they have said either “taking a break” or “divorcing”. I feel like “separating” is softer but still just as sharp. They could have at least given us false hope. My reaction was disturbing looking back, I laughed. Like, hysterically laughed as if they were joking. That's not something they would joke about, and they weren't. That was the first night that I saw my dad cry.

My parents never really fought. They didn’t often raise their voices at each other and never got violent. I guess I’m lucky in a way. But compared to what? I later find out that the reason behind them “separating” was my mom. She would probably argue that it was mutual, but I know it wasn’t. I mean I don't completely blame her. If I were her I would have left too. She was unhappy so I understand. I think that when my mom moved out my perspective of her started to morph. At first, the only change was obviously that I was sad and that I missed her. But the more I learned the more resentment came. I’ve only started classifying her leaving as her “leaving” recently. It was always just when my parents “Separated” and I hadn’t paid a lot of mind to the fact that it was just her leaving, giving up. I never stopped loving her, that would be dramatic but it did make me view her differently. I just no longer understood her.

With my dad at first, we were kind of in the same boat, mourning her and being sad which sounds fine but is uncomfortable when you have to comfort your dad who isn’t comforting you and on top of that, your usually nurturing mother isn’t a comfort factor either. For a while, I think my dad was just depressed which even though it might sound bad changed my view of him a little bit. I know men are allowed to be sad and have feelings, it was just confusing to me because I had never seen him like that before. Other than his emotional side coming out I also noticed that he started to pay a lot more attention to politics, which was also new and different to me. When I was younger and around the time of this happening I didn’t pay any attention to politics because well, I was a child. But I did know the opinions of a lot of other people at my school, who would talk about the (at the time) presidential candidates. The only thing I knew though was what side my dad was on and that he was happy when his favored candidate won said election. I remember sitting in the darkened living room alone with my dad, (my brother probably playing video games) watching the election and seeing which direction it was going, and hearing my dad happily and sometimes angrily expressing his emotions to the tv.

When I moved after the whole fiasco of the separation and dad losing his job my mind expanded a bit. I experienced a lot more things and grew informed of these politics and this president. For a while, I kind of had a rebellious phase as you could call it where I hated this president and anyone who supported them which happened to include my dad. Now I could never really hate my dad but learning of this person who he idolized was not such a good person and did a lot of uncomfortable things upset me. I even fought with my dad a couple of times over it, which started with me disagreeing with him on something and initiating a vocal fight. This all brought out a completely different side of him that I’d never seen or expected before. I thought that my dad was this perfect person who would never commit such bigotry when here he is yelling at the tv about something that doesn’t even affect him.

All of this changed my perspective of my parents and not really for the better. When I was little I idolized them and would’ve never believed all that has happened. I still love them but my perspective has definitely changed a bit. It's different though because with my mom I still think and maybe even more so think that she's a good person, I see her true character often and I know that she is good when she left it sucked but I know it wasn’t meant to hurt me or my brothers and that it was probably bound to happen. My dad, I think that he's a really good dad. I just don’t know how good of a person he is. I mean not that he's all bad but there are just a lot of qualities that I have discovered about him. One thing that I have learned after all of this is to not hold such high standards for them, they’re not superheroes or freaks of nature. They’re people.