This Is the Time to Remember That We All Live Under the Same Sky


My parents have been divorced since I was six years old. I am fourteen now and they live one hour apart. I used to see my dad every Thursday and every other weekend, but that was before the outbreak. Now I can’t see him at all.

The last time I saw my dad he couldn’t hug me, touch me, or even pet my dog. Social distancing and quarantine mean something different for children of divorce. It means we can’t see our parents and step-siblings. It means we don’t know when we’ll get to see them again. We might not see them for days. Or weeks. Or months.

Me and my step-dad.

I really miss my dad. I miss going on hikes when the weather is nice. I miss reading the New York Times together on Saturday morning and stealing sips of his coffee. I miss our annual trips to my Destination Imagination competitions where we pin trade and eat too many salt and vinegar chips. I miss our little…

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