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The Bright Side

As told to Pearl Hertz

As soon as I woke up the next morning, the stark truth hit me once again: My family was breaking apart. Did my parents’ divorce mean the end of my world?

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

“Are we there yet?” I asked groggily to my friend as I shifted in my seat.

“Almost,” she answered, glancing out the window.

We were on the bus home from camp. Although it had been a wonderful summer, I couldn’t wait to get home. I’d say hello to my parents, dump my duffle bags in the laundry room, take a long hot shower (without waiting in line first), and then crawl into my comfortable bed. Just the thought of my bed made me smile.… And after a long nap I’d wake up to a delicious home-cooked supper and tell my parents all about my summer at camp.

When we arrived at the bus stop, I anxiously looked around for my parents, but they weren’t there. After a few minutes of waiting I noticed my older sister, Zehava.

“Hi Atara!” Zehava called out.

“Hi, where are Mommy and Daddy?”

She was quiet and did not answer the question. “You’re not happy to see me?” she finally asked.

Although I was happy to see my sister, I would have preferred to see my parents. I got into the car and we drove home in silence. Zehava seemed very out of it, not her usual lively self.

“I’m home!” I called out when I walked through the front door. My mother came and greeted me. “Atara!” she said, giving me a kiss, “Welcome home!”

“Where’s Daddy?” I asked.

“Um … He’s away,” answered my mother uncomfortably.

 

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