My wife and I were chatting about the divorce of two friends of ours, when our eight-year-old son, Adam, who didn’t seem to have any interest in the conversation, suddenly chimed in. “What’s going on?” he asked. I briefly elaborated, adding for assurance the fact that my parents got divorced when I was a kid and everything worked out (sort of). “How old were you?” he asked, shrewdly. Even as I spoke the words, I realized I was in trouble. “I was eight,” I responded, with what felt like an audible gulp. We looked at each other in the most awkward way.
Adam proceeded right to the inexorable conclusion. “I don’t want you and Mommy to get divorced,” he said, all jokey and nervous.
Now it was Rebecca and my turn to share an awkward look.
“Well, the good news,” I told Adam, “is that mommy and I love each other very much and have no plans to get divorced.”
But because my parents had the worst scorched-earth divorce ever; and because the mere thought of it still creeps me out; and because my heart goes out to everyone involved in a divorce (even though I grew to become a big fan of my parent’s separation); and because humor is my last refuge on any awkward but important topic, I couldn’t help myself and added, “But if we ever did get divorced, I’m sure it would be your mother’s fault.”
–Eric Messinger
