When I was 11 years old, my parents told me that they were going to separate. At the time, we lived in Reno and my dad decided to take a job in Dallas as my parents sorted things out. Although my older sister and I were both devastated, we also reacted in very different ways.
My sister was angry, sad, depressed, worried, and heartbroken. I was . . . well let’s put it this way, the moment my dad said he would be moving into an apartment building with a pool, I wasn’t as upset. It wasn’t that I no longer cared, but it was obvious for a long time that they weren’t happy – we weren’t happy – and if this was going to happen, at least I would get a swimming pool out of the situation.
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