Choices
The green rocking chair with the matching ottoman, The the light entering the room through red curtains, The hole in the carpet from roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, The memories of the nights in my parent's bed watching television. Sitting in the living room in silence Wet drops on my blue skirt that slid off my face The word "divorce" stifled my home. Now, each week is planned precisly based on my parents choice. And I do not get the choice of feeling guilty. And I do not get the choice of making sure my sister gets home safe when my father is incapable. But, the choices I do have will not be taken for granted because I have learned that one choice can change everything, just as one word changed everything for me. In the first stanza of the poem, I wrote about when my parents sat me and my sister down and told us they were getting a divorce. Since then, everyone knows that my parents are split up but not everyone knows the impact it has had on me. Becau