Wednesday's at Villas
Divorce is Wednesday nights at Villas
For pizza and all you can drink cokes
Asking Dad for another quarter
To stick in the table side jukebox
So I can listen to Funkytown
And Another One Bites the Dust
It’s drawing pictures of your new stepmom
With horns coming out of her head
And flames for hair
It’s getting in big trouble for
Cracking an egg on the skull
Of your toddler half brother.
It’s calling Dad collect on his birthday
Because Mom didn’t get a child support check.
Divorce is figuring out rides
To weeknight baseball practice.
It’s hearing the phrase “broken home”
And realizing the guidance counselors
Are talking about you
Which means there’s at least
A possibility it can’t be fixed.
Divorce sucks.
But the adults
Say it is necessary
That it cannot be helped
That it is not your fault
That mommy and daddy both love you
Very much, no matter what.
Divorce is anger, a secret shame.
It’s using the key hidden under the mat
To get into the house after school.
It’s the church pastor showing up
With a carload of donated groceries,
All the good sugary cereals, too.
It’s watching mom chain smoking
In the backyard at midnight
Gnawing her nails down to pink nubs.
Divorce is feeling weird, never quite normal
And doing your best to fake it
So no one you care about knows.
It’s Thanksgivings with mom
And July 4th always with dad.
It’s summers across the country
Away from all your friends.
It’s me when I’m with dad
And then a different me
When I’m home with mom
It's one day realizing that
I will always be two little boys
Until I learn how to repair
What had to be broken
To make me who I am.
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