One of the hardest parts of leaving a broken marriage is the fear that your children will carry the fractures with them forever. I worried constantly. Had I done enough? Would they blame me? Would they miss the house more than they appreciated the peace?
The answers did not arrive in speeches or big moments. They came in little scenes that unfolded quietly.
Slowly, that changed.
Bedtime, once a tense routine full of whispered arguments in the hallway, turned into something softer. We read longer stories. They asked more questions. They started to fall asleep without the sound of raised voices in the background.
The house itself felt different. Where there had been tension, there was now an ease they had never known. There were still rules and boundaries, of course, but there was no longer a sense that we were all moving around someone’s simmering discontent.
They laughed louder. Fought over silly things. Argued about whose turn it was to feed the cat. In other words, they began acting like children who no longer had to tiptoe around adults on the verge of an argument.
Watching them relax told me what I needed to know. Leaving had not broken them. If anything, it had unburdened them.
CONTINUE READING…
