Larae Sanchez

The Brown Paper Box

It was a rainy day outside and I spent hours at my father’s house helping him pack the last of my childhood home. It was finally my weekend off from working in a rehabilitation facility. I was tired but I loved my father and needed to help him move into a smaller senior home. He made the decision of moving realizing it was hard to keep clean and maintain by himself. I tried to help as much as I could but my hours at work increased after my divorce just to afford my house alone. I just finished eating the pizza my father ordered for my ten-year-old son and I, who came along with me because it was my weekend with him. My son ate his food quietly before retreating to his Nintendo switch. He has not taken my divorce well and that made my heart ache. However in the end it was a better choice even for him, I remind myself just like my parent’s did when they divorced seven years ago.