Ten Years...

[Therin]

I was nine. It was a beautiful summer day, early June, I think. Mom called my brother and I outside to talk about something. Beneath the cloudless blue sky, sitting four-square in the comfortable heat of predrought Maryland, there was silence for a few minutes. Except for my brother. He was five, and five year olds aren't silent for more than thirty seconds in a row until they turn eight or so.
We had a very nice yard then, I can still remember it well; being the bearer of an infinitely climbable stand of pine trees, it was the site of many six-year-old adventures. I used to be able to climb all the way to the top of one of them, and I could look out over the rest of the neighborhood and pretend I was an eagle, or a falcon, or whatever bird of prey had taken my fancy that day. The pine trees were on the corner of my street and the main street of the neighborhood, with shorter, chubbyer, and far less good-natured pines running from the climbing trees to the driveway. Then, continuing the line past the driveway all the way to the other edge of my yard, were three pines, some bushes, and two more pines. None of the trees in this section of the yard were climbable, but the bushes were often used as hide-outs for hide-and-seek, or forts for the autumn acorn fights. I was never very good at acorn fights, as I am an abominable shot, but I was usually the smallest of my friends, and hence quite good at hide-and-seek. But I digress from the topic at hand. I do tend to do that, when the memories are painful.
There we sat, the four of us. In clockwise order, my father, mother, my brother, and me. We waited for a few minutes for my brother to quit talking, and when he did, my parents jumped on the chance.
My father began. "You mother and I, we...We've decided to split up for awhile, to try to work out our differences." (There was more said than that, but you'll have to pardon me, my memory is slightly hazy. Understandably not something I try to remember often.)

I don't remember what went through my head at that point. Young though I was, somehow I knew exactly what it meant, and what it entailed. My family was about to be shattered, and it terrified me. Now that I think about it, I'm not even sure there was anything going through my head right then, aside from alarm bells and deep, gut-wrenching fright. I couldn't let this happen. I spoke up.
"No you're not. You're going to stay together, right here."
I said it calmly. A little louder than I had intended, maybe, and possibly a little higher, but still relatively calmly. Over the years, I've noticed that I do that. In a slightly stressful situation, I panic. Completely. Whining, yelling, throwing things about, not thinking at all, the whole bit. But I've noticed, and I'm glad I've only had to witness this twice, that if it's a truly serious situation, something that could have a profound effect on me, that I seem to remain calm. I couldn't honestly say that I do remain calm, because, honestly, I don't remember thinking at all. But I seemed calm. The second time I experienced this was...I think four, maybe five years after the event in question, when my dog bit my cousin's dog. I walked inside, looked at my father and uncle, and said, "Hey, Dad? Yeah, Alaska just bit Sunny." That was it. No tremors. No frantic yelling. No quiet fear. Just a flat statement. He asked me later why I was so calm.
The first time was this glorious day in June, ten years ago. Neither of my parents thought to ask me why I was calm. I could speculate why, but it's not worth the effort. The truth is that I will probably never know. Hell, they probably don't even know anymore. Or perhaps my memory is distorted, and I started crying frantically not too long afterwards. But what I remember, for whatever reason, is the calmness in my voice when I made that pronouncement. Thinking about it, a difference in my reaction may have meant a difference in the outcome. If I had fallen over, screaming inconsolably as any nine-year-old is so loathe to do, they may have stayed together, I don't know. But, because of my calm or not, my dad moved out less than a week later. My life has never been the same.

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Comments welcome, as always. I might continue, I might not. Depends on how I feel about it.

[Excel Zero]

Well man you know how I feel. Helps me to actually read this so that I can better understand how it happened. In a way I envy myself because the divorce happened when I was 1 year old, far too young to recall of course. But as you always have known, I'm right here if ya need me.

Excel

[Therin]

Arigato.