Old photographs taunt me.
They show a time where everyone was happy,
a time that I have no memory of.
I look at photos and am forced to imagine what it must have felt like,
to have everyone under one roof,
happily.
To be a normal family.
Nothing like the mess we are today.
I have vague memories from before the separation.
I remember a certain argument,
where they were shouting so loud,
I had to lead my sister outside.
We sat under my colorful umbrella,
I read my American Girl Doll book about divorce.
I don't remember how they told us what was going to happen.
I don't even remember the day my dad moved out.
I'm not sure how, I wasn't even that young.
Maybe I erased it from my memory.
History is repeating itself.