The door slams. Muted yelling in the backround. A pathetic attempt of hushing your childs ears. You can’t really make out any of the argument, but a couple of words. none of which make you feel any better. “mistake”… .”the kids”… . ”tired”. “divorce”

That word alone triggered my heart to drop in my stomach. Instant headache paired with the instant heartache followed by theabundance of dramatic tear drops.

I hate when parents fight.

Everything will be better in the morning. It always is, isn't it?