Emancipation;

Our time on Earth is so ephemeral in the grand scheme of things. What is entirely unfortunate, however, is the fact that so few take each moment granted for everything it embodies, myself included. I wish I appreciated the miniscule and was not so quick to judge situations; I wish I knew my worth and neglected my faults; Most ardently, though, I wish I could share my sentiments more openly with others.
I remember the day my father left with meticulous vigilance. I was in the kitchen with my four-year old sister watching That Darn Cat when my parents walked in. My mother had a blank look on her face, and I could see the remnants of her mascara as if she had been crying. My father's eyes were bloodshot and senseless; he seemed completely numb. And then I saw the suitcase out of the corner of my eye.
Few words were exchanged, and for a while the situation consisted entirely of sporadic glances from one person to another. Then, without a moment's notice, my mother uttered behind bated breath "your father is leaving us." It took a second to believe her because this had happened before: the threat of a packed duffle bag, arguments to see whose vocal chords would give out first, and it always ended with my father coming home. But this was different.
He was on his knees begging her to take him back, to give him one last chance. She was shaking her head in disagreement for one final round. I was at a loss of feeling, paralyzed by the prospect that I was witnessing my father's weakest and most vulnerable moment.
And then it was over. He was driving away, heart in hand, and I was without my father, left alone to consume the countless lies force fed to me for the next few years.
I have been wanting to write that down for a while now, so I could get it out of my mind. I suppose my next move is to finally move on...clarity.