I remember a time in my life when the gravity of the capitalistic nightmare we call America didn't weigh down upon my shoulders. A time when I viewed life through the euphorically ignorant eyes of a child. A time when I was as light as a feather, free to drift in the peaceful winds of a suburban childhood. The days seemed to pass so slowly, and the worries of living in this dog eat dog world seemed so insignificant and far away. But as the years passed, the cold, harsh realities of life hit me in full force. I was 10 years old when I learned that my parents were divorcing each other after 15 years of marriage. It was a cold January day, the sun was beginning it's steady decline towards the western horizon, and I had just arrived home from school. I entered the dimly lit house and was greeted by the sight of my mother packing her belongs into her suitcases. She slowly raised her head from what she was doing and looked at me, an expression of pure angst on her face. "You're father and I are getting a divorce, Evan.". I felt no sadness at the time, her words seemed to lack reality. It was as if I could not comprehend the implications of what she had just told me. In the same month that she moved out, my father got laid off from his job. My siblings and I were constantly tossed back and forth between our two parents, living at one house one week, then being ushered out to live at the other. Over the span of a few months, we had been reduced from eating delicious home cooked meals to scrounging for expired boxes of macaroni and cheese.
