"Normal"--Peyton

When you look at someone you don’t really think about what they’ve gone
through on the inside. You know their outsides and you see how they act, but you don’t know how they feel. At the age of five, I sat down next to my three year old sister with a juice box in my hand at the coffee table and my mom told us daddy was going to live somewhere else. My first question was who was keeping the dog and whether or not I was getting more than one Christmas morning. Dad got the dog. I went to school the next day and told everybody my dad stole my dog. In first grade you don’t understand what your mom means when she tells you to pack for daddy’s house. You don’t understand why you see mommy for seven days straight and only see daddy for three days. It just doesn’t make sense. The older you get, the more information they tell you. The older you get, the more sadness and anger you have inside of your body. I was my sister’s support system and she was mine. We have been each other’s go-to for anything and everything since the day we decided that no matter how much change happens in our life, we are not going anywhere. It’s been that way for sixteen years. Each big holiday after the divorce you get more and more comfortable with the fact that this is going to be your “normal.” My dad has been a fireman my whole life. For seventeen years I've seen that man work his ass off to provide for his family no matter what the circumstances were. Working every Christmas morning and having to

celebrate three days later, all of the birthdays missed. My sister and I understood all of it. Ten years ago both of my parents found the people they were meant to spend the rest of their lives with. We have two homes, two completely different families. I’m the oldest of five siblings. Three brothers and my sister. “Normal” to me is being at my dad’s house and remembering that I left my favorite shoes at my mom’s and not wanting to drive fifteen minutes away when I can just wait another five days until I'm back at moms. Forgetting the textbook I need for homework. Getting a text that one of them needs me to babysit and now I can’t go out that night because it’s my brothers and I’d never say no. That is my normal. When someone looks at me they see smiles, laughter, and jokes to cover up the fact that I couldn’t sleep the night before from how deep my therapy session was. Seventeen years on Earth and eight years have been spent going to therapy because your parents think they screwed up your life. Then one day you wake up and realize they didn’t screw your life up, they changed it for the better. They give you more and more people who love you unconditionally and give you life long memories. Never would I change anything in my life. I’m thankful for my normal.