My name. Two syllables. And the number of families I have. Two. Not by choice, but because two people could not get along. I have to do everything twice. It is like painting my nails…I have to paint one hand and then paint the other.

It started August 16, 2006, when my dad declared a family meeting. Me, being the innocent seventh grader, almost eighth grader, thought to myself, why are we having a family meeting? Why a “meeting?” Does not that typically mean business? In some ways, it turned out to be business. It was like having my boss tell me to do something I did not want to do, but was forced to do.

I did not want my parents to get a divorce. But I had to deal with it because I could not change it.

My life, being like a business, is set to schedule. Certain days with mom. Certain days with dad. My whole life is planned out. I have two separate lives, but both are important to me. Like school and activities, such as sports, clubs, and volunteering. Learning to handle both was hard at first but I realized that since I was dedicated to both, school and activities, I was able to handle both. I learned the harder I push myself the more likely I am to succeed. So I knew if I pushed myself through my parents’ divorce I would make it.

At 18, I will be able to finally choose who I want to be with. But, that does not matter to me because I will always want to see both. So I will just go back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. But I will also have another life: my college life. And again I will push myself to succeed, because school is important to me.

My parents do not communicate anymore. They say it is too hard to deal with one another. But that leaves me and my siblings in the middle, always having to hear both sides of the argument. But we cannot agree with either parent because then we are going against the other. Always in the middle. Just because two people could not get along.