through the eyes of a child

When I was nine years old, my parents almost split up. Actually I think they did, but for a week or a week and a half, coz she actually moved out and went to live with a certain neighbour of ours. Those days I was still the oldest, and I didn't really understand what was going on, so I really doubt akina my brother and sister even noticed any such thing. We used to go visit her at the neighbour's in the evenings after school, and then go back home to our father's. Can't remember exactly what they used to tell us when we asked why she was no longer staying with us, but I can remember the pastor and a certain delegation coming over every evening with her [our church at the time my dad was sort of one of the founding members back in '88 - he was good with guitars and stuff so he launched the very first choir when the church was coming up - and it wasn't yet that big, so there as that extra personal touch people got from the leadership], and then they'd lock themselves up in the sitting room and discuss lots of adult stuff laced with prayer, then when it was over she'd go back to the neighbour's till next session next day. Us guys were just glad we were being allowed to play outside after dark - that whole "forbidden fruit" thing. I believe that was my very first experience with counselling, the only one so far.

Despite the fact that I didn't get everything that was going on, I can actually remember the straw that broke the camel's back. See there was these two girls at the time that came to live with us, and they ended up becoming like my parents' adopted children (which was another thing I didn't get), so over time they grew up and became young women, and at some point there must have been some appearance of impropriety, coz the reason my mum left was she gave him an ultimatum ("They go or I go") and he must have refused to kick them out coz ati where were they supposed to go now (errrr, back to their parents' houses - who were still alive, btw) so she figured she wasn't gonna live like that. Anyway, the counselling must have worked, or love for the children must have won out, coz she did come back after that rocky period and the girls didn't even have to move out. Sorta opened my eyes up to the sacrifices parents make for their children. Like I said, I was nine, but I really think no child should have to grow up with two homes, or picking who's their favorite parent (btw, I chose my mother - coz to me it appeared like he hurt her somehow, and he got the house so it only seemed fair that she should get me. that's the mind of a nine year old - chuckle chuckle...)

The thing people never seem to realize is that children see things. Yes they're young, and they may not be able to understand certain concepts, but they see them. And they remember. In that single act, moving out not even knowing where she was going, more than even with the things she says, my mother taught me that you don't have to live with it just because that's the way it goes. You never don't have an option. Those people who say children learn what they live, they're really not kidding. Children see things, and they remember. Of course us people don't talk about it coz it was a long time ago and, well, we're a black family :), but at certain times I dread what if. And then I'm eternally grateful to the Lord it turned out the way it did. There is a certain bliss associated with being a child: the speed with which things slide; the wonder with which we see little things; the comfort we feel when holding a parent's hand; the way we can be sure just like that that it's all going to be ok tomorrow. I mean, here were my parents almost in the middle of getting a divorce, and there we were, playing bows and arrows without a single care. Sometimes I agree, there's not a thing sadder in the world than to wake up Christmas morning and not be a child.

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