Separation is tough. The most difficult moments inevitably involve my stressing over how my children are handling it. There are two homes now. Split time and halved wardrobes. To them, this back and forth must feel like parallel parking using a manual clutch on a steep incline. And I was 21 when I mastered that skill, not 10. One thing I can say, they consistently make me proud. And make me laugh. And when those two things happen simultaneously, the voice inside whispers "it's going to be okay."
Me: It's not just dad's house. It's my house, too.
Him: (laughing) I know. That was a test.
Me: (laughing) Did I pass?
Him: Yes.
