My parents got a divorce when I was 16. When my mom moved out my sister moved out with her. I stayed with my dad so I could still catch the bus to go to school. It just seemed easier to stay behind. My mom has always been my primary care taker, and let me tell you a little story to tell you why.
Not too long after the physical separation I spent a lot more time with the neighborhood kids. We mostly hung out at the park down the street. So for some strange reason we decided to do back flips off the swings. We each tried to top each other by swinging higher and higher before flipped off. Me not wanting to be one upped I had to go the highest of them all. I did a one and a half. That means I landed in a way that looked I was doing push-ups. Well I landed so hard I broke my left arm. I knew it immediately because I broke my right arm when I was little and knew what it felt like. I say good-bye to my friends and walk home. My dad is nowhere to be found. Keep in mind that this was before many people had cell phones. I laid on the couch and passed out from the pain. My gets home about 5 hours later, around 10pm. He then asked me why I was on the couch. I told him that I think I broke my arm. He says, "Oh", and leaves the room. The next day he wakes up and sees me still on the couch, and asks "Why are yous still on the couch?". I tell him again, "I think I broke my arm". He says, "Ok, let me take you to the hospital".
We then go to the hospital and yes, indeed, I did break my arm. There wasn't a drop of emotion in that whole exchange. A month later my mom was granted full custody of my person.
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